She Went Out of Sight, Now She's Out of Time
by soccermonkey413
Summary: Six months ago, Genevieve faked her death in a fire in order to go off the grid and find out how to take Pierce down. Only Hazel knows she's out there, until Genevieve saves Chase's life, exposing her as alive. Determined to wipe her out, Pierce forces her to turn her greatest fear into her greatest weapon not knowing she just may wipe out the entire planet in the process. Book 4
1. Chapter 1

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 1 (Genevieve and Bree's P.O.V.)

**AN: Hey! Yeah, I'm a lot of days early, I know. You're welcome! ;) Anyway, check the AN at the end for a little more info. Enjoy Chapter 1!**

**Genevieve**

If she'd learned one thing during her four months and three weeks on the run, it was that surveillance was considerably harder when you were doing it on an empty stomach.

But then again, her stomach was almost always empty these days. If she wanted to, she could easily count her ribs through touch, she had so little body fat. This made it considerably harder to keep warm at night, as well as when she was wedged in between two boulders in order to get a signal on her bug. Speaking of which, Genevieve rolled her shoulders in irritation, trying to work out some of the tension and regain feeling in her fingers as she adjusted the dial knob. The static in her headphones went away and Pierce's voice once again filled her ears.

"—has to be out there somewhere I'm telling you!" Genevieve allowed her eyelids to flutter shut. It was the same old song and dance as it usually was. Pierce venting to Douglas about his continued belief of her living. Even though she'd faked her death in a fire almost half a year ago, seeing as the scientists had never been able to confirm the identity of the body they'd found, Pierce was intent on searching for her until the day she'd turn sixteen when her expiration date would kick in, killing her within twenty-four hours.

Bile rose into the back of her mouth at the thought of the timer literally ticking away at her life, and she immediately forced it out of her mind. It was easier to do when her stomach growled again, the sharp pain of hunger slicing through her midsection.

Suppressing a sigh, she absently ran her fingers through her hair. Or tried to anyway, but they got stuck about two inches down, caught in the tangles of her thick brown locks that were so entwined with dirt and mud she couldn't even tell the original color anymore.

Relentlessly yanking the threads apart, she turned her focus back to the microscopic listening device she'd planted in Pierce's lair, biting her lip almost hard enough to draw blood in frustration when she realized it was near static again. Adjusting the dial knob, she found the correct setting and tried to get as comfortable as possible in between the boulders as the argument filtered into her head.

"After all those people you'd killed? Not likely. Besides, D through F have been looking for her as well. They would've reported any sightings of her by now, and after all those hostages you killed, trying to convince her to come out? No one with a conscience would allow innocent people to be killed while they were in hiding," Douglas reasoned.

"See I thought about that. And then I realized that maybe the problem is that they were innocent," Pierce's voice responded and a cold feeling trickled down Genevieve's back that she knew for a fact wasn't sweat.

Douglas apparently felt the same way. "What do you mean?" he questioned, and even through the bug Genevieve could hear the uneasiness in his voice.

A pause followed and Genevieve could picture Pierce idly moving around papers, taking pleasure from making his associate wait for an answer. "See, all the people I've killed so far have been nameless, faceless. Irrelevant, so to speak. She didn't know any of them before they died. But what if she did? That boyfriend of hers, for example. I find it highly improbable that she would be content to sit back and watch him die, don't you? What about the rest of her friends, or her sister?"

"You mean Chase and his siblings?" Douglas asked and Genevieve suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

"Exactly. Do you really think she'll just sit by and do nothing while we kill the boy she loves?" came Pierce's smug question.

A pause followed this and Genevieve fought the urge to set something on fire. She wanted Douglas to ask what Pierce was going to do but he stayed silent, and then she realized why. Chase was his biological son, of course he wasn't anxious to know the details. But he'd ask, he had to. And he did. "How long does the boy have left?"

"I sent my best assassins to do the job. If she's alive, she'll be keeping tabs on them. She'll know the second they're in danger and G will run to help. Only my assassins will already have struck and be waiting to grab her the minute she arrives."

"That's all well and good, but I'd like specifics. When will they strike?" Douglas insisted.

"The team will execute its attack at nineteen hundred hours," came the reply. "Now then, onto more pressing matters…" But Genevieve didn't hear anymore past that. Frantically pushing up her sleeves, she checked her watch.

6:59. Her heart stopped. The assassins would strike in less than a minute, she knew this for a fact since she'd coordinated her watch to match Pierce's clocks. Her mind seemed to split in two. Half of it screamed at her to go stop the assassins, to kill them before they killed Chase and Hazel and all of the others.

The other half worried about what would happen when she did.

There was no conceivable way that they could stop the assassins, she knew that. But if she saved them now, then they'd have to come with her and they'd face a lot worse than just some assassins. But as she turned it over quickly in her head Genevieve decided it didn't matter. If there was even the _slightest_ chance that she could save them, she had to try. It was the reason she'd put them through the pain of thinking she'd died in that fire: to protect them from Pierce. They couldn't reveal what they didn't know. But if he was going after them.

Genevieve checked her watch.

It beeped and changed. 7:00.

Without sparing a second thought Genevieve engaged her warp speed and rocketed over to Mission Creek.

**Bree**

**6:58**

"Come on Hazel, dinner time. It's your favorite, grilled cheese and pickles on rye!" Bree coaxed.

"I'm not hungry," came the predicted answer.

Bree shrugged. "OK, fine you're not hungry. But _I'm_ hungry, and I can't go eat unless I have you with me so unless you want to have my emaciated body on your conscience you'll come to dinner. Do you have any idea how many calories I burn while running at the speed of sound?"

"I can imagine," the girl replied smarmily, before becoming visible and crawling off the cyber-desk.

Linking arms with the girl who'd once been a twin, Bree gently tugged her over to the elevator, where they rode up in comfortable silence.

**6:59**

A ding sounded and Bree and Hazel exited the elevator and walked over to the table as Tasha sat down the last few plates. "Glad you could join us," she joked, but said it nervously. Ever since her twin had died, no one in the family quite knew how to handle Hazel, so they treated her delicately, as though she might explode if handled incorrectly. But compared to how Chase had dealt with it, she was the model example of handling grief. She'd never cried, and seemed determined to help the rest of the family pull through. Hazel had been there whenever Bree needed a shoulder to cry on, helped around the house more than the rest of them put together and constantly consoled Chase.

Chase.

Bree snuck a glance at her brother to see him once again moodily picking at his food instead of eating it. He had to have lost at least ten pounds since 'the incident'. He was barely eating, and more than once Bree knew for a fact that he stayed up all night. The first two months had been the worst. The bionic siblings and Leo had stumbled around the house in a daze, Chase and Bree unable to bring themselves to even go to school for a week. Even once the initial shock of it wore off, it occasionally would still hit Bree like a truck. Whenever she wanted to share a particularly funny joke she'd overheard in homeroom with Genevieve and remembered she wasn't there, or whenever she saw a cute top she wanted to buy for Genevieve and force her to try on. It was moments like those that hit her the hardest. But Chase still seemed unable to cope with it. He was failing two of his classes, and had completely withdrawn from everyone except Bree and Hazel. He almost never came out of the lab except for school, and more than once he'd spent the night sleeping on the roof. Bree knew it had been his and Genevieve's 'place'.

Wondering if the family would ever truly recover from the loss of the girl, Bree bit into the sandwich, welcoming the flavors that filled her mouth, the softness of the cheese evened out by the crunchy pickle. Swallowing down the bite, she picked up the glass of milk in front of her and tilted it down her throat.

**7:00**

Pain exploded in Bree's left shoulder and a scream tore it's way out of her throat as she collapsed off of her chair. The rest of her family and Hazel all scrambled for cover as bullets rained down and no less than a dozen men clad in black dropped in through the windows.

Bree grit her teeth and yanked herself to her feet, speeding over to take cover behind the couch as the table was blown to splinters. Stubbornly holding her hand to her shoulder as if she could hold down the pain, Bree grabbed a frying pan and charged to help her brothers and Hazel.

Swinging the pan at one of them, Bree hit one of the men hard enough to knock a normal man unconscious, except that these weren't normal men. They were Pierce's bionically enhanced super goons, and it took a lot more than a frying pan to damage them.

Bree turned and saw one of them pointing a gun straight at her face. She barely had time to think, _I'm going to die_, before he burst into flames.

Well then. Even though frying pans couldn't harm them, spontaneous combustion seemed to do the trick.

Blinking twice to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, Bree still saw a pile of ash where the man had just been. But that wasn't possible. The only known bionic who had pyrokinesis was—

No.

Not possible.

But just as that thought crossed her mind a savage yell echoed through the room and the bionic wrestling with Hazel was slammed aside by a blur.

One that vibrated into the shape of a ghost.

Or at least Bree assumed it was a ghost, because if it wasn't a ghost then she wasn't sure what was real because the girl it had taken the shape of was the spitting image of her best friend who had died in a fire four months ago.

But ghosts didn't set six men on fire at the same time, before round housing a goon fighting with Chase and throwing the others into the wall with molecular kinesis.

She then advanced on them, a furious expression painted on her face, before reducing the remaining men to cinders.

And then, she turned to face Bree and the others, and a voice escaped her mouth, one Bree thought she'd only ever hear in her nightmares.

"Are you OK?" Genevieve asked.

Bree soundlessly opened and closed her mouth, and if it hadn't been for the burning sensation in her shoulder, she would've assumed this was a dream.

Genevieve had been killed, hadn't she? But if Genevieve had been killed than how was she standing in front of them, asking if they were OK? Because it certainly looked like her friend. Granted, a filthier, skinnier version of her friend with bags under her eyes, dirt in her hair and under her nails and wearing what looked like a mission suit that had been sent through the wringer but still her. Bree shook her head in confusion and Genevieve took that as a 'no, she wasn't OK'.

Her piercing blue eyes gave Bree a once over, and immediately landed on her shoulder.

"You were shot!" she exclaimed in concern, walking over to gently place a hand on her uninjured arm.

Her touch. She was real.

A strangled sob tore it's way out of Bree's throat and she launched herself into Genevieve, nearly knocking the girl over.

"You're alive!" she sobbed, her voice distinctly garbled due to her tears. "You're alive," she repeated, firmly grasping her friend in her arms, terrified that if she let go she would disappear.

"Well it's about time," came a distinctly irritated voice. Bree marginally lessened her death grip and turned to see Hazel, looking disgruntled as she glared at Genevieve, arms crossed. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wait until our birthday to show up."

"Wait a minute," Bree sobbed, still clutching Genevieve like a lifeline. "You knew she was alive?"

"It was in my letter," Hazel confessed. "She asked me not to tell you."

Adam then came barreling over and was so enthusiastic he literally lifted Genevieve into the air. "Genevieve!" he sobbed, "It's really you!"

Genevieve circled her arms around Bree's older brother, placing her head on his shoulder. "It's really me," she laughed, and Bree saw that she was crying as well. "I missed you Adam."

As the oldest bionic put her down, Mr. Davenport, Tasha and Leo all ran over, encircling Genevieve in a hug, all three of them crying, even Mr. Davenport. Genevieve hugged them back, saying she'd missed them. Bree looked around for Chase, wondering why he wasn't rejoicing like the rest of them and found him, staring at Genevieve in disbelief, eyes narrowed, arms crossed.

Genevieve gently extricated herself from the embrace of the adults and Leo, and turned to look at her ex-boyfriend. The smile fell from her face, replaced by a look of guilt. "Chase?" she asked, her tone hesitant.

"Prove it's you," came the cutting response.

Genevieve held open her hands, palms open and fingers splayed in a gesture of peace. "You just saw me set twelve assassins on fire using pyrokinesis, Hazel's linking me right now and I know that Adam has a birthmark he nicknamed George on his left butt cheek. What else do you want me to say?"

He still looked skeptical, so Genevieve reached behind her neck and unclasped something silver, and walked over, placing it in Chase's hands. "This is the necklace you gave me for our six-month anniversary," Genevieve informed him, as if he didn't already know.

He absently let it slide through his fingers, before reaching out a hand to fiddle with a piece of her hair. "It's really you," he said in wonder.

"Yeah, we know it's her. The question is why didn't she bother coming back sooner?" Hazel snapped coldly, looking angry about something.

Genevieve winced at the tone, but met her twin's gaze. "Look, I know you're mad at me but —"

"You don't know anything," Hazel interrupted, glaring at her.

"OK, enough hostilities the girl's alive! Genevieve, where have you been the past four months?" Leo demanded.

"It's a long story," she confessed. "Cliff-notes version: I faked my death, I'll explain how later, I now almost have control of my pyrokinesis, Pierce's bionic army is practically done growing, and Adam, Bree, Chase and Hazel need to come with me and we need to leave _right now_."

"Leave? But you just got here," interjected Tasha in confusion.

Genevieve rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Look, I wish I could stay, but I need to leave right now. These four are bionic, and I was always closest to them, if Pierce will target any of you again it'll be them, and I can't watch anyone else die."

"Anyone else die? What do you mean?" asked Leo in confusion.

A hard, mirthless laugh escaped Genevieve's mouth as she threw back her head and tears came to her eyes. "Do you really think that's the first assassin pierce has sent? Do you have any idea how many innocent people I have had to watch die to maintain the illusion that I'm dead? This is the first time in months I've saved someone he's killed in an attempt to draw me out. In other words, he now knows how much I care for these four meaning those are the four he'll target. So unless you want to see them wind up dead I suggest you let them come with me." Tears of anger were now streaming down her cheeks as the turned to the bionics and issued instructions. "Pack. Now. We leave in five minutes. Change into your mission suits and bring the comfiest clothes and shoes you own. Grab sleeping bags and plenty of bottled water and canned food, but nothing too heavy. I'll brief these three. We leave in five minutes. Go." Something in Genevieve's face convinced Bree not to argue, and so using her super speed she collected the other three and sped them down to the lab.

**Genevieve**

"She'll give you weekly updates to make sure you know the kids are fine, and if anything happens to them either she, I or Bree will bring them straight back," Genevieve finished.

"And you promise this is the safest option for them?" Mr. Davenport confirmed.

Genevieve nodded. "I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't."

"Can't you at least stay the night? You're dead on your feet and you must've lost at least twenty pounds since I last saw you," Tasha pleaded.

Genevieve turned her tired eyes to the closest thing to a mother she'd ever known. "Tasha, that's very sweet and I wish I could but I've stayed here too long as it is already. The most you can do is like I said: make sure the school knows that they're OK, make up some story that they're visiting a sick relative in Australia or something, and keep all this as quiet as possible. Don't call the police, and do not. Ever. Under _any_ circumstances, tell anyone that I'm alive. Clear?"

The adults and Leo nodded as Hazel and the others came back upstairs. "We're ready," Bree announced.

"Good. Say your good-byes, quickly," she ordered, before embracing Leo tightly.

"You had better look after them," he said thickly.

Genevieve nodded. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to them," she assured him.

She gave him one last quick squeeze and then turned to embrace Tasha and Mr. Davenport. "I'll miss you," she whispered. It was so, so, _so_ much harder to leave them this time, with words instead of letters, with her having to see the looks on their faces as she left them behind. Quickly releasing them, she walked over to the door to wait as the others finished up their good-byes before she did something stupid like cry.

She gave about thirty seconds before walking over and grabbing Adam and Hazel. "I'll be right back for you two," she promised, before engaging her warp speed and shooting off. About five seconds later she arrived at her hideout. Depositing her current passengers, she zipped back and picked up Bree and Chase. Giving one last smile to Leo, Tasha and Mr. Davenport, she took a deep breath, and left the house one last time.

**AN: Hello again! Like I said, here's a little more info. First off: like I promised this book is going to have considerably longer chapters, BUT, some are going to be shorter. As this chapter was over 3,000 words, clearly it's not one of the shorter chapters. Moving on, secondly: Yes, I know I'm a lot of days early. But hey, isn't that a good thing? You see, since I have finals coming up in a few weeks, I figured I'd try and get as many updates in as possible before they started. Third: I will be updating as quickly and frequently as possible, because per thingie 2, I have finals coming up and want to get in as many updates as possible before then. Finally, can you believe we're finally here? The final book in my first fanfiction series, Subject G. It's been a pretty wild ride hasn't it everybody? But don't worry, no sappy stuff right now. I'm saving that for the final chapter. I hope to see you there!  
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**-soccermonkey413**


	2. Chapter 2

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 2 (Genevieve and Bree's P.O.V.)

**Genevieve**

"But I don't understand why Pierce won't go after Leo and the others," Adam complained, as they sat campfire-style in the grassy clearing Genevieve had deemed her hideout.

Before she responded, Genevieve found a nice long stick and began twirling it midair with her molecular kinesis. Why not, right? "Think of it this way," she began. "His mind works like a chess match, everything's just one big game of strategy to him. He likes to use who he sees as the 'pawns', for example, you four and the others, to get to the piece who can do a lot of damage: me. In his mind, I'm like the 'queen'. I can do whatever I want to whoever I want, wherever and whenever I want to do it."

"Modest much?" teased Bree.

Genevieve allowed the ghost of a smile to trace her lips, before turning her attention back to her stick. "But even queens have limits. And pawns can be upgraded when they reach the other side of the board. When Pierce realized that if he really wanted to find out if I was alive or not, he'd have to use 'pawns' that mattered to me, you four reached the other side of the board and became upgraded. Now you're knights and rooks and bishops: pieces that can actually do a lot of damage. And so he attempted to eliminate _you_, in order to draw out _me_. But Leo, Tasha and Mr. Davenport are still just 'pawns': they're not bionic, and I was never that close to them, so they don't have the power to do a lot of damage. In other words, they'll be safe because now that all of his 'worthwhile' opponents are in the same place, his attention will be off of them, and onto us."

Adam frowned, and Genevieve resisted the urge to take a leaf out of Hazel's book and curse. "But are you sure we can't —"

"Trust me Adam," she interrupted. "I've been dealing with this guy a lot longer than you have. They'll be all right. I wouldn't have left them if it wasn't the safest place for them to be, just like I wouldn't have taken you with me if I thought you'd be better off back home, undoubtedly dead by now, and just like how I didn't tell you I was alive to keep you protected from him for as long as possible."

A heavy pause filled the air, the tension becoming thick enough to get trapped in. Frowning, Genevieve ran over the sentence she'd just said and realized that she'd brought _it_ up. Oh boy. She was so screwed.

"How exactly did you convince us you were dead?" asked Chase, his tone might've been cold but genuine curiosity had leaked into the question. Her ex was a genius, and he didn't like not knowing the answer.

"By doing things I'm not proud of," Genevieve answered, delicately dodging the question as she dropped the stick from the air into her hands and began toying with the wooden fibers at the end.

"Be more specific," Hazel demanded icily. "We have a right to know. And _I_ have a right to know how you fooled the link."

Genevieve chewed on the inside of her cheek, determinedly not making eye contact. "OK. Fine. You want to know how I fooled you? Then sit down kiddies: Auntie Genevieve is going to take y'all on an adventure," she added sarcastically. "Long story short: I tampered with Adam's gas mask so that he'd be weak towards the end of the mission. Then once everyone was out, I pulled down the ceiling over him with my molecular kinesis so that I could knock him out of the way and get buried."

"Let me get this straight," injected Adam. "You almost killed me for real, just so you could fake your own death?"

But Genevieve was already shaking her head. "No, I wouldn't have risked it if I thought you'd be in any actual danger. You were completely safe, I promise. After the ceiling collapsed, the second before it hit me I threw up a force field. That's also what blocked the link," she added, tagging on this last bit at the end for Hazel's sake.

"So you went through all this trouble just to protect us? I don't buy it," said Adam shaking his head. His two siblings spouted a cacophony of complaints, but Genevieve felt Hazel's eyes on her as she raised her eyebrows towards Adam, unable to believe that out of the four of them _he_ had been the one to call her bluff.

"You're right. I also did it to protect myself," she said softly, effectively silencing the arguments of Bree and Chase. "I needed to fool Pierce. If you guys had known I was alive, then your grief wouldn't have been genuine. And it worked too, at least for a little while. But to confirm it, since he knew I'd be watching him, he began killing off random, _innocent_ people —" her voice choked off as she was overcome with emotion, and she took a moment to collect herself. "And then eventually he decided to go after you four, realizing that the only people I'd risk coming out of hiding for were the ones I loved."

**Bree**

The whole time Genevieve had been talking, Bree had grown more and more apprehensive. When her friend had first come to their rescue, she hadn't noticed her dilapidated state. But now that she had time to observe her, she noticed just how emaciated and unkempt Genevieve was looking. She'd obviously lost weight, enough that she looked borderline-anorexic. Her mission suit was practically hanging off of her now skin-and-bones frame, and Bree could tell that no amount of washing would be able to get some of those stains out. She was having trouble telling if some of the stains were dirt or dried blood. As for her hair: just looking at it made Bree want to puke. She couldn't even tell its original color anymore there was so much mud mixed in, it contained enough grease to cook a McDonald's worth of French fries and it had more knots than Adam's collection of shoelaces and yarn. Bree made a mental note to force Genevieve to use the shampoo, conditioner and hairbrush she'd packed. Otherwise, things were going to get ugly. Well, uglier.

But it wasn't her physical appearance that was worst, and that scared Bree. It was her personality. She seemed different, and in a bad way. Harder. Crueler. More world weary than before. The old Genevieve wouldn't have killed those goons right off the bat, but this Genevieve didn't even spare two seconds before incinerating them. Truth be told, it made Bree uncomfortable to think about it. But Genevieve had done it in a way that seemed almost habitual, making Bree wonder just how often her friend had killed since they'd seen her last.

Then she saw three figures at the edge of the clearing walking towards them and flinched, bolting upright.

"Bree? Are you OK? Is it your shoulder?" asked Adam worriedly. But she shook his concern off: Hazel had fixed her up good as new. Clenching her fists, she prepped for a fight as she pointed towards the figures. "I'm OK. But _they _sure won't be."

The girl who was taller than who Bree knew to be her sister, but shorter than the boy who was obviously her brother, gave a short laugh. "Oh honey, if that's the best you can do then we have _got_ to work on your intimidation skills," Dakota mocked, as she, Elizabeth and Frank stepped into the clearing.

**AN: Hey y'all! I know this chapter's a little, OK, a **_**lot**_** shorter than the last one, but hey: I warned you this might happen didn't I? *ducks fireballs. OK, OK, I get the point! Sheesh. *ducks boulders Alright already! I'm sorry! But don't worry: I promise no chapters will ever be shorter than 1,000 words, so you'll always have a decent reading. Anyway, next chapter going up sometime before/on Tuesday. See y'all then!**

**-soccermonkey413**


	3. Chapter 3

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 3 (Elizabeth's P.O.V.)

"…and some roast duck coated in a honey glaze, followed up with cheesy potato soup. For dessert: chocolate ice cream, slathered in hot fudge sauce, chocolate syrup and chocolate sprinkles and finished with a cherry on top," Elizabeth determined, completing her idea of a dream meal.

"You've never even _had_ chocolate, how do you know you'd like it?" Dakota inserted bluntly. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and returned to sorting out oak branches from the others.

"Call it woman's intuition," she retorted slyly, a grin touching her lips.

Frank snorted and dropped one of his branches. "Woman's intuition," he asked incredulously. "Lizzie, you do realize you're barely fifteen right?"

"You do realize you're barely fifteen right?" she mocked, using her vocal mimicry to imitate him perfectly. Her brother cracked a smile and Elizabeth grinned. "Alright Tank, you're up."

"I've _told_ you not to call me that," he muttered, but she chose to ignore him, knowing he didn't really mind the nickname attributed to his molecular density. "OK, got it. We'd start with a huge, chocolate cake —"

"You can't _start_ with dessert," Dakota interrupted, sending a scowl their way.

"Says who? It's my fantasy meal, it can go however I want it to," he argued. Elizabeth sighed, injecting herself into the argument before her siblings could turn to their bionics and decimate a couple dozen acres of trees.

"Let's get back guys, I think we have enough wood now." As she spoke, she subtly inflicted gentle calm on her siblings. Not so much that they noticed, but enough to drain the tension from their shoulders and make them unclench their fists. She breathed a small puff of air in relief. "While we walk, Tank can tell us his favorite meal. But this time, maybe save the dessert for last?" she added pointedly.

His almost-permanent scowl darkened and he opened his mouth to argue but Elizabeth placed a small hand on his shoulder and gave him a winning smile, playing the I'm-your-adorable-little-sister-so-you-have-to-do-whatever-I-say card. He sighed and gave her a tiny smile. "Sure Lizzie," he replied. She silently cheered, before heading over to Dakota's other side as the threesome walked back. "So to start, instead of cake we'd have tomato soup with basil on it, and those little salty crackers Douglas sometimes gave us, and warm, fluffy bread on the side. Then a HUGE chicken…" he continued on and Elizabeth closed her eyes, seeing tantalizing visions of Oreos, cakes and the ever-elusive chocolate syrup dance in her vision.

"Lizzie watch out!" Dakota snapped and Elizabeth opened her eyes just in time to avoid tripping on a tree root. "Gee, graceful much?" her older sister snapped, after she'd finished checking her ankle for bruises or swelling, despite complaints on Elizabeth's part that she was perfectly fine.

"You're getting sloppy. Always be aware of your surroundings, remember?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but nodded along with Frank. "Good," nodded Dakota, apparently satisfied.

"Anyway," said Frank in an attempt to break the forming tension, "After butterscotch pudding would be a gigantic chocolate cake, like, big enough to sit on! And it would have strawberry icing," he added as an afterthought, "With whipped cream and Oreos on top."

Elizabeth's stomach growled in agreement. "Quiet you," she muttered to it. It gurgled once, but then obeyed and she fought the urge to giggle.

They continued in companionable silence before Elizabeth froze. The sticks tumbled from her hands as a gasp escaped her lips. "Lizzie?" asked Frank, concern coloring his voice. "Lizzie what's wrong?"

"My empathy," she whispered. "Genevieve's not alone. There are four other people with her."

"Who are they with? Pierce or her?" Dakota demanded, hard green eyes practically burning a hole into her head.

"They don't want to hurt her," Elizabeth quickly assured them. "But I only recognize one of them."

"Who is it?" her sister asked intently, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. "Who's with her Elizabeth?"

"Hazel," she replied. "But I have no idea who the other three are."

Dakota smiled, a smirk coming onto her face. "Well then. Let's give them a proper welcome shall we?"

As they were about to enter the clearing they heard Genevieve talking, obviously to Hazel and the strangers. "…decided to go after you four, realizing that the only people I'd risk coming out of hiding for were the ones I loved."

"Must be Chase and his siblings, the ones she always goes on about," Dakota murmured, before stepping into the clearing. Sharing a glance, Elizabeth and Frank simultaneously shrugged and followed her.

The new girl who wasn't Hazel — Elizabeth assumed it was Bree — immediately noticed them. She gasped and jumped to her feet, fists clenched.

"Bree? Are you OK? Is it your shoulder?" asked the older looking boy in concern.

But she shook her head and pointed accusingly at the threesome before replying, "I'm OK. But _they_ sure won't be."

Elizabeth's lips twitched and Dakota couldn't help but laugh as she mockingly replied, "Oh honey, if that's the best you can do then we have _got_ to work on your intimidation skills," she sneered.

"Dakota!" Genevieve snapped, warning lacing her tone.

The girl chose to ignore her, instead focusing on the four new teenagers. "I see our reputation proceeds us if you're going to try and sound threatening before we've even said 'hello'," Dakota said idly, and Elizabeth resisted the urge to groan as her sister slipped on what Elizabeth had privately dubbed her 'combat face'. She had one too and so did Frank. He said it made him look fierce. Elizabeth said it made him look constipated.

"Yeah, your reputation proceeds you alright," snapped the other, younger looking boy. "You tried to kill Genevieve. And if she hadn't turned our school into a pile of ashes there's a good chance you might've succeeded."

"Excuse me?" asked Genevieve, sounding insulted. "I could've taken them."

"Maybe I'll take you up on that challenge Gwen," teased Dakota, idly running her hand along a tree trunk.

Elizabeth noticed that Hazel had been uncharacteristically quiet during all of this, and glanced over to see the twins shooting daggers at each other with their eyeballs. She tentatively reached out, and nearly went into shock at the intense emotions surging between them. Stupid link. It always felt the need to send her empathy app haywire.

"I have a better idea," piped up the older boy. "Before you do that, how about we fight you instead. And instead of someday, why not right now?" Elizabeth and Frank flipped out of the way as his and Dakota's heat vision met in the middle of the clearing, an intense battle of wills beginning to take place. She knew Genevieve would break them up, but she was currently linking with Hazel which meant it would take a minute, and the boy didn't have a minute. Rolling her eyes as a sudden breeze sped by her, she clicked into her super speed and literally ran up a tree, to avoid Bree, perching on a branch and focusing on the lasers meeting in the middle. Reaching out with her mind, she inflicted shock onto the three bionics, watching guiltily as their muscles clenched and eyes rolled into the back of their heads. Dakota stopped firing her lasers as Frank threw the younger boy to the other side of the clearing.

Well _that_ got Genevieve's attention. "ENOUGH!" sounded a yell, and suddenly everyone except the twins was suspended in a giant gamma bubble that cut off her inflicting. Force field. Thank _God_.

"Adam, Bree, Chase, meet Dakota, Elizabeth and Frank," Genevieve said sternly, pointing to each sibling as she indicated them. "I may have forgotten to mention that they're working with me now. So on three, I'm going to drop the force fields, and we're all going to behave in a manner that does _not_ include firing two thousand degree lasers from our eyeballs. Dakota don't you _dare_ roll your eyes at me!" she snapped at the end, and Elizabeth glared at her sister.

"One. Two. Three!" the force fields dropped and so did Elizabeth. Off her branch, and onto her arm. Giving a sharp intake of breath, she breathed through the pain, riding it out. She'd had much worse before. Once the initial hit-by-a-bus feeling was over, she surveyed her arm which was lying at a very interesting angle. Probably broken. Dang it.

"Need a hand Lisa?" Hazel asked, using her special nickname for Elizabeth as she walked over.

She nodded, still focused on clenching her jaw to avoid using every curse word she knew, unable to believe she'd been so clumsy.

Cool hands placed themselves on her arm, and there was a snap that made Elizabeth grit her teeth and arch her back as the bone realigned itself, but then she relaxed as the sensation of cold-water trickled over the burning feeling in her arm.

Sighing when all that was left was a mild itch, she gingerly stretched like a cat before taking Hazel's outstretched hand. "How come you automatically trust us?" she asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of her tone.

"Genevieve linked me her memories of the time she's spent with you and I figure if you were going to kill her you'd have done it already," Hazel replied conversationally as she studied her fingernails appraisingly. "Besides, if you're stupid enough to betray us I'll snap you like twigs."

"Fair point," she conceded before they linked arms and walked over to the rest of the group, who appeared to be in a very intense debate.

"They _tried_. To _kill you_," said Bree slowly, speaking to Genevieve as though she were an idiot.

"Yes Bree, I'm perfectly aware of that.," Genevieve snapped. "I'm _also_ aware, that once I helped them get over the wiping process Pierce had put them through and they regained their memories of how sick and twisted he is; _and_ how we used to be friends, they decided to help me. Also seeing as it was _me_ they tried to kill, not you, then I think I can decide for myself whether or not to trust them. Not to mention my empathy app would've picked up if they were going to kill me or not."

Chase opened his mouth, clearly attempting to argue, but Genevieve cut him off before he could make a sound. "Chase Davenport, listen to me very carefully. All three of you, listen to me very carefully. Dakota, Elizabeth and Frank are risking a lot to help me, and they have valuable information seeing as they technically still work for Pierce. I don't need you to like each other, but I need you to respect and trust each other enough to work together. _Do I make myself understood_?"

Elizabeth was pretty sure Adam only heard about half of what she said as he was distracted by a butterfly that was flying around his head, but the other two seemed to get the hint.

"Speaking of Pierce," Dakota mentioned, pulling out the communicator. "Everyone: shut up. It's time for our check-in."

"Your —" Chase began to ask, but a glare from Genevieve shut him up.

"Hello sir?" Dakota spoke into the receiver.

After a brief pause, his voice crackled back. "Present. Report D. Status?"

"Mission still incomplete sir. We have not yet found Subject G."

"Unsurprising," came the cold answer. "Why would today be any different than the past four months? Keep looking, understand? Her expiration date is almost here —" Genevieve winced. "— And I want either G or the body by then. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Dakota responded robotically.

"Good. Over and out." The communicator beeped as Dakota switched it off and chucked it over towards the backpacks.

"Is it wrong of me to want to punch him hard enough to bend his face in half?" Hazel wondered aloud, earning a dark chuckle from Dakota and Gwen.

"Don't worry, you're not alone," Elizabeth assured her.

Sparing a glance at her watch, she saw it was almost eight thirty. Time had flown. "OK everyone, time to turn in for the night. I've got first watch, Dakota I'll wake you up in two hours."

"Starting tomorrow, I want more than five hours of sleep which means the prototypes are going to have to start taking shifts," her sister complained.

The other set of siblings scowled and Elizabeth buried her face in her hands at the insult. "Who're you calling prototypes?" demanded Bree.

"Last I checked I was talking about you," Dakota replied snidely.

"Dakota. _Enough_," said Gwen, and her sister's face paled slightly as her hands began to flicker with flames.

"Uh, sis? Your hands are smoking," Hazel informed her, taking a delicate step back.

Looking down in confusion, Genevieve rolled her eyes before extinguishing the fire. "Right. Sorry about that," she said bashfully.

"I thought you said you had control of your pyrokinesis!" Adam accused.

"_Almost_ have control of. Key difference," she defended herself. "Now unpack your sleeping bags and let me go to bed. I'm tired and I have the two a.m. to four a.m. shift tonight."

With that, she promptly set the ablaze the branches in the fire pit Frank had constructed, and crawled into the sleeping bag she'd stolen from a camping store.

Looking at one another, Adam, Bree and Chase dragged their sleeping bags over to the other side of the fire and grouped them together. Quick as a blink, Bree changed into a pair of pajamas as Elizabeth did some stretches to warm up. They were pretty cute PJ's, she reflected enviously. Although the top was too tight for her taste. _But apparently Frank has no objections_, Elizabeth thought and her eyes widened as she caught him giving Bree a once over. The girl apparently felt his eyes on her and turned, catching him in the act. Both of their cheeks colored (Bree's a lot more than Frank's) but where Frank simply stood there like a statue, Bree tossed him a saucy wink before climbing into her sleeping bag to wait for her brothers to change. Elizabeth made a mental note to tease him about it tomorrow.

She shivered as a breeze caressed her arms, and walked over to grab a jacket from her pack. Sliding it over her shoulders, she gave a contented sigh as warmth enveloped her body.

"Night Lizzie," Frank said.

"Night Tank. Enjoying the view?" she smirked, jerking her head over to where Bree and her brothers were having an intense conversation.

"Shut up," he muttered, but rewarded her with a small smile, the kind only she could draw out of him.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said by way of apology, before turning around and doing some stretches to keep warm as the European cold set in.

"See you in the morning," he agreed, before walking over to his spot in between Hazel and Gwen to climb into his own sleeping bag, or 'night sack' as he called it.

Same as all the other nights she'd had a shift, nothing very exciting happened. The only exceptions were a rather obnoxious owl, a couple very annoying raccoons, and when her overly full bladder demanded her attention sometime around ten thirty.

At eleven she finally walked over, her eyes already drifting shut, and impatiently shook Dakota awake.

Her eyes immediately opened and she crawled out of the sleeping bag without complaint, which made her some sort of immortal being in Elizabeth's eyes. Whenever _she_ had any shift aside from nine to eleven, it typically took all three of them to drag her out of her sleeping bag since she came kicking and screaming. Well, clawing and complaining, but same thing really. Her thoughts became a helpless sort of muddle as she crawled into her sleeping bag. Letting her eyelids drift closed, she focused the last bit of her energy on Hazel, Adam, Bree and Chase. She hadn't seen Hazel in years, but the girl clearly trusted them already which in itself was a feat of miraculous proportions. The amount of times she trusted easily came about as often Frank smiled with people other than herself. In other words: about once every other decade. As for the siblings, well, they didn't trust Elizabeth, Frank or Dakota, their emotions told her that much. But hopefully they would learn.

If they didn't, how on Earth was she supposed to tease Bree and Frank about how they were perfect for each other?

PAGE BREAK

"PARIS!" the screech pierced through Elizabeth's extremely pleasant dream of snowball fights and hot chocolate, demanding that she open her eyes. She did what she did with most of her mind's orders: she ignored it and tried to go back to sleep. It sounded like they'd let her after all as following this shriek came an army of whispers shushing her, following the lines of: 'be quiet, you'll wake Elizabeth!'. Snuggling down into her sleeping bag, she let her eyes stay closed as the rest of her body attempted to catch up with her brain. Elizabeth required at least ten minutes of being 'awake' before being able to function properly. This typically caused glitches, and by extension, punishments while they'd been with Pierce. This unhappy thought immediately woke the rest of her body and an unhappy scowl worked its way onto her face. Grumbling unhappily, she pushed the sleeping bag over and stretched, catching a few rays of sunlight on her face as her stubborn eyes pried themselves open. Sometime between when Elizabeth fell asleep and when she woke up, her eyelashes seemed to have glued themselves together.

"Oh great, you woke her up," snapped Dakota.

"Sorry Elizabeth," called over Bree. Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise at the apology, until she saw her glance to Gwen for approval. Apparently while she'd been sleeping Genevieve had had a conversation with the siblings. Frank was comparing muscles with Adam, Hazel and Dakota looked to be in an intense but friendly conversation, and Bree looked perfectly content _watching_ Frank and Adam comparing muscles. Well, mostly Frank anyway.

"Who yelled 'Paris'?" Elizabeth complained.

Bree glanced at her guiltily before quickly inspecting her tennis shoes. Elizabeth grinned evilly. "Well _whoever_ it was, can expect a sleeping bag full of fire ants in a couple of nights."

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Bree tore her eyes away from Frank and her tennis shoes and walked over to pull something out of her bag. Elizabeth wasn't quite sure what it was. It had a brown handle, and bristles coming out of the end. It didn't look painful enough to be a weapon, although she supposed if you shoved it in someone's mouth it could create a useful distraction. But then Bree began to _pull it through her hair_. "What are you _doing_?" asked Elizabeth in disbelief.

Bree looked over in confusion. "What, you've never seen a hairbrush before?"

At Elizabeth's raised eyebrows, Bree's jaw hit the ground. "Wow. OK, Liz: come here."

"Why?" she demanded. "So you can tear my hair out by the roots? I don't think so! I'll have you know that whenever my hair gets too knotted a pair of scissors works just fine, thank you very much!" as she spoke, she pulled her curly blonde locks in front of her face for inspection. Elizabeth supposed they could look nice if she put effort into it, especially since her pale skin set it off nicely, but really she couldn't be bothered to care.

"Well it's been bugging me ever since I saw it. Here. Now. I'm going to brush your hair even if I have to tie you to the ground to do it."

True to her word, Bree eventually forced her to comply by sitting on her and holding her down with ropes, much to the other's amusement as Elizabeth kicked and complained and used enough swear words to scorch the ears of anyone who heard her.

Twenty minutes later, her hair was actually _smooth_. Elizabeth couldn't stop staring at herself in what Bree called a 'compact', and obsessively running her fingers through the locks. She marveled at the feeling of her fingers just going straight through, and not being stopped by knots and twigs. A few minutes later, Bree put it in what she said was called a 'French braid'. Whatever it was, it pulled her skull tighter than a clean slate but it looked good. Normally that wouldn't have been enough to compel her to keep it in, but Bree had revealed that at the end of the day her hair would be curly when she took it out, so for curiosity's sake she kept the braid. And OK, maybe just a _little_ bit of vanity.

"OK, we leave for the Catacombs in four minutes, everyone ready?" called Dakota. Everyone who'd been with Genevieve for longer than twenty-four hours replied ready, while Genevieve briefed the other four on how they were going through Pierce's old HQ in the catacombs, trying to find data that could be useful.

"Useful how?" she heard Chase ask.

"Their could be information on some of the computers about how to fix my…" Gwen hesitated before weakly finishing with, "Malfunctions."

"If this has something to do with that 'expiration date' you won't tell us about," interrupted Bree, her tone borderline threatening, but Genevieve cut her off. "I'll tell you later. Right now, we need to get going."

PAGE BREAK

"We only have six more minutes before the next group of excavation workers comes through," Frank warned as they frantically shifted through piles of data, downloading what they could onto a flash drive to browse through later at Internet café's.

Frantically clicking through her pile of emails, files whizzed before her eyes. They contained information about nuclear weapons, poisoned laundry detergent, knockout gas disguised as soap dispensers, but no expiration date. No expiration date, no expiration date, no expiration date.… Just as she was about so hurl a keyboard across the room in frustration: "Jackpot!" Elizabeth crowed in excitement. "Gwen! Get over here I think I found something!"

Genevieve (along with everyone else) hurried over. "What is it?" she demanded.

"It's an email from his 'partner' who, as we know but Pierce doesn't, is Douglas. It says something about the cure for the expiration date being in your chip. It's not very specific since as you can see, the majority of the file was corrupted, but you can get the general gist of it," Elizabeth explained.

"OK, enough. What is this bloody expiration date you four keep yammering on about?" Bree demanded.

Genevieve opened her mouth — probably to lie — but was interrupted by, "Voices!" Dakota hissed.

The three of them with super speed hooked up with the five who didn't and rocketed out of the catacombs.

**AN: Well? What'd ya think? Did I give y'all a little bit of a shock with having them on the same side? Do you support Bree/Frank pairing? If not: too bad! Or maybe not to bad… No more spoilers! What did you think of Elizabeth? Adorable right? Anyway: wow. That's like, one of my longest chapters yet. Only 214 away from being over 4,000 words. *sniffle I'm so proud! ;) Anyway, fair warning: updates are going to be a lot less frequent since I have finals in two weeks. I'll definitely get one more chapter in, and maybe, **_**MAYBE**_** two, but no guarantees alright? But I promise I will have at least six chapters up by Christmas, maybe seven if we're lucky, but unfortunately school must come first. Now it's 11:59 and I'm dead on my feet, so I bid you adieu. Good night!**

**-soccermonkey413**


	4. Chapter 4

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 4 (Bree's P.O.V.)

"So you normally hang out at Internet café's? Didn't you ever consider buying a laptop?" Bree questioned as she watched Genevieve examine the flash drive Elizabeth had downloaded.

"Of course we did. We considered it for all of about two seconds, but then seeing as Pierce can track laptops through their satellite signal and since we're not idiotic we didn't act on it," Dakota snapped. Tilting her head up, Bree did her best to glare at the older girl. However this was made difficult by the fact that Dakota was camouflaging into a tree while she reclined on the branch against the trunk. Her ability to blend into her surroundings was similar to Hazel's invisibility, only instead of turning invisible, Dakota simply blended into her surroundings: like a human chameleon; making it very hard for Bree's eyes to focus on her.

Squinting her eyes resolutely, Bree finally managed to snare the older girl into her line of vision and hold her there, tears coming to her eyes as she squinted practically directly into the sun. "You'll have to excuse me for not having the finely honed instincts of a teenage fugitive," she replied, doing her best to keep her tone sarcastic. The impact was probably lessened by the furious red spots on her cheeks and the tears from the sun brimming in her eyes.

"Ahh, is the wittle girl gonna cwy?" Dakota mocked, dropping down from the tree and shifting in and out of Bree's perception.

Angrily wiping away the tears Bree rose to her feet and scowled. "_You_ try looking at the sun and staying dry-eyed," she replied, trying to cut into the girl the way Dakota could. But even as the words left her lips, she knew it was useless and she sounded like a petulant four-year-old. The older girl gave her a condescending smile, and walked away snidely, moving with a lithe, unconscious grace that Bree envied. She didn't know _what_ the girl's problem with her was, but Dakota always seemed to feel a need to dig under her skin. She was like a leech, constantly sucking the life out of Bree, yet unlike leeches you couldn't just pick her up and fling her off. Bree had tried and gotten nowhere with it.

"Give it a rest Dakota," Frank called over, a scowl emblazoned on his face. Bree rolled her eyes as she remembered that he was _always_ scowling. During the mission to the catacombs, during planning, while he was sleeping. Not that she watched him while he slept of course, she'd just taken little peeks at him now and then when she'd had trouble falling asleep.

"You like him don't you?" Bree gave a little shriek and turned around as Elizabeth, the only one of the group who could make Frank smile, practically materialized behind her. She and her older sister shared the same, lithe, catlike grace that Bree yearned for, but unlike Dakota, Elizabeth didn't want to make Bree throw herself off of a cliff, and Elizabeth had the gift of making Frank smile whenever she pleased, a luxury Bree wanted. She wanted to see him flash that smile at her, the one that made blood rush to her face and her heart speed up.

"What do you mean?" she scoffed. "I don't like him, I have a boyfriend."

"I don't see him," Elizabeth returned swiftly. "Besides, there's a good chance we won't all get out of this alive, so you might as well enjoy the time you have together."

"I'm not that kind of girl," Bree insisted. "I… just like to look at him," she finished feebly.

"Mm-hmm. And something tells me you'd like to do a bit more than looking hmm?" Lizzie queried, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Strawberries wished they were the color of Bree's cheeks. "Nothing's going to come out of this. I refuse to lead him on," she snapped.

Giving a heavy sigh, as though Bree had just rejected _her_ and not Frank, Elizabeth silently crept over to Frank. Giving a tap on his shoulder, the tiny girl grabbed his sleeve and pulled his ear down to her mouth where she whispered something in his ear. He threw back his head and laughed, before ruffling her hair. Or as much as he could with it in a French braid anyway.

Taking a shaky breath, Bree wiped the image from her mind, replacing it instead with one of Owen. Owen, sweet, artistic Owen. Owen who she always seemed to be fighting with lately. Owen who she could never tell about her bionics. Owen who had never cheated on her.

No.

She wouldn't think about Frank that way. It was simply a crush, nothing more. She would never act upon it and it would fade away in time.

PAGE BREAK

"Anything?" asked Bree, staring over Chase's shoulder.

"Not yet," he replied, as he stared intently at the screen of the computer that had the flash drive downloading on it.

"Well hurry up would you?" snapped Dakota angrily. "We've only got four more minutes before Pierce is able to detect its homing signal."

Any other time and Bree would've immediately harped on Dakota for giving Chase such a hard time, but neither Frank nor Elizabeth were there to break them up this time should they start a fight. They couldn't have come, it was too risky for more than three of their group to seen together out in public, and so Bree held her tongue.

Seconds passed away, then minutes. Roughly thirty seconds were left before Chase declared, "Got it!"

Dakota immediately shoved him off the chair and sat down in his place. Her eyes rapidly scanned the email. "Cure for the expiration date is in her chip. Of course," she murmured.

"What do you mean?" Bree asked, unable to help herself.

Dakota scowled at her before immediately sliding on her blank face, an emotionless mask she wore whenever she was without her siblings.

"Nothing, it's not important," she said tonelessly, ejecting the flash drive before it could be traced. "Let's go."

"Well it must be somewhat important, seeing as you, your siblings and Genevieve keep bringing it up," Bree insisted as they walked swiftly towards the exit.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Dakota demanded as they exited onto the brisk streets of Paris. Her emotionless mask was instantly replaced with a carefree one, and she slung an arm around Bree's waist and laughed, as though she'd just said the funniest thing. "I'm serious! She bought them in _red_! I was all, 'girl! You _must_ be tripping'!" Plastering an identical smile on her face, Bree laughed along with her, linking arms with Chase as they walked through the city. About ten minutes and a mile and a half later, they ducked into an alleyway and Bree sped them back.

PAGE BREAK

"Dare," Adam replied. They were sitting around the campfire later that night, and Bree absently rubbed her fingers over the smooth cloth of her mission suit, grateful to be back in her own clothes, and not some random outfit that had been 'blown off' of some random stranger's laundry line. And by blown off, she meant stolen.

"Alright," Elizabeth mused. "I dare you…" frowning in concentration, she looked at the flames of their campfire. Chase leaned over and whispered something in her ear and she laughed out loud. "OK Adam. I dare you to take off your mission suit and do the chicken dance."

Adam moaned by way of complaint, but at catcalls and teasing from everyone but Dakota, he complied.

The group howled with laughter during his ordeal, and he was rewarded with a round of rousing applause.

"Your turn Bree. Truth or dare?" Adam asked as he pulled his mission suit back on.

"Truth," Bree replied. She certainly wasn't about to pick dare after _that_ little spectacle.

Before Adam could speak, Elizabeth blurred over and whispered something in his ear. A very evil grin spread over his face, and Bree got a very bad feeling. "Truth then. Bree? Do you like Frank?" he teased.

Bree's stomach turned itself over and over before tying itself into knots. "He's a very nice guy," she managed to choke out, refusing to look at Frank. "My turn."

The circle snickered and Bree tried to find the next victim. "Genevieve. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Bree took a deep breath. This was it. This was the reason she'd started the game in the first place. "Why didn't you tell us you were alive?"

The temperature automatically dropped ten degrees as Dakota glared at her with such frigidity Bree was surprised she didn't turn into a Popsicle.

Genevieve's face blinked into an expression of anger and discomfort before shifting into neutrality. "I already told you. The less you knew, the safer you were."

"OK then, rephrase: what's the _real_ reason you didn't tell us?" Bree asked quietly.

Genevieve opened her mouth— probably to lie again —but Frank cut her off. "Gen: you should tell them. They have a right to know."

"They don't have a right to know anything," Dakota snapped at him. "You're just saying that because you have a crush on Bree!"

Frank's cheeks turned about seven shades darker, and Bree could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks. "That's not important. The point is, they're her friends and she owes them the truth."

"Why, pray tell?" insisted Dakota. "They haven't done _anything_ for her. _We're _the ones who helped her control her pyrokinesis, _we're_ the ones who have been lying to Pierce for months to protect her, _we're_ the ones who saved her neck —"

"And we're _also_ the ones who almost killed her!" Elizabeth interrupted.

"Enough!" Genevieve yelled and everyone jumped back as the fire flared up to thirty feet, a shot of brilliant color in the darkness.

No one moved a muscle, everyone stayed perfectly still, so still that if someone were to stumble upon them in the darkened clearing and didn't know what they were looking at, they might've assumed they'd discovered a grove of statues.

Almost thirty minutes later, when they were sure no one was coming to check what the surge of fire had been, they began to relax. "Sorry," Genevieve muttered.

The seven of them muttered their acceptance of her apology and she took a deep breath. "OK Bree. You really want to know why I didn't tell you I was alive?"

"Gwen," Dakota protested, warning in her voice.

"It's my decision Dakota," Genevieve said firmly. "Not yours. Besides, they'll find out in less than two months anyway." Turning to Bree and her siblings, she closed her eyes as though praying and explained, "I didn't tell you I was alive, because I wanted to save you from having to mourn me twice."

"Mourn you twice? What do you mean?" asked Adam in confusion, and Bree was grateful that she didn't have to ask.

"It's that 'malfunction' I mentioned, and the expiration date Bree and Chase are so desperate to find out about," explained Genevieve. "You know how our chips are wired directly into our nervous systems right?" At the siblings' nods of confirmation, she continued, "Well in my case that creates a bit of a problem. When Douglas was creating my chip, he built too much energy into it. He was able to place blocks and limits onto it, but eventually those limits are going to wear off. When that happens," her voice choked for a minute and Genevieve closed her eyes. Bree could tell she was struggling to keep it together and her heart went out to her friend as a horrible, horrible feeling filled her stomach. "When that happens, when the limits have worn off of my chip it will completely overwhelm my nervous system, including my brain and soon after, my heart. I have until my sixteenth birthday before that happens. I have one month and twenty-three days left until I die."

The reactions were mixed and varied. Adam gave an indignant cry of 'What?' before rushing over to embrace her. Chase buried his head in his hands, before standing up and walking over to the edge of the clearing. Bree simply stared at her, unable to conceive the enormity of what she was saying, the words all bouncing around in her head, refusing to make sense, but all of them reaching the same, undeniable, unimaginable, unthinkable conclusion. She shook her head as if to push the thoughts away, unable to perceive how Genevieve was dealing with it. If Bree knew when _she_ was going to die, she'd be fighting it in every way possible, but instead Genevieve was using her last few months to try and prevent World War III.

At some point she numbly realized tears were trickling down her face, and Frank came over and held her, and she woodenly leaned into it, feeling selfish that he was comforting her, when Genevieve needed every bit of comfort she could possibly achieve. Adam had finally released her and was now sitting back in his spot, angrily raking a hand through his hair. Tears were still streaming down Bree's face, dripping down her chin, blurring her vision and filling her mouth with the taste of salt. Chase was covering his face with his hands as he leaned against a tree trunk, and Bree had a perfect view of Hazel — who had been standing stock still when this announcement had been made — so it was easy for her to watch Hazel walk over to Genevieve. Easy to see her furious expression as she raised a hand. Easy to see Hazel slap Genevieve across the face as hard as she could.

Everyone except Genevieve — who simply held her red cheek, staring at her twin in disbelief — gave cries of protest. "What was that for?" Genevieve demanded. "You already knew about my expiration date!"

"You _what_?" asked Bree in outrage, unable to stop herself. First she knew Genevieve was alive, and now it turns out Hazel also knew she was going to die. How many secrets was this girl keeping?

"Oh, so _now_ you want to know how I feel? _Now_ you care about what goes on in my head? What about when you told me you were going off the grid to hunt down a mad man who's main goal in life is to torture you into giving up information you don't know so he can kill you?!" Hazel yelled, her words ringing in the empty clearing. Bree stared in shock. She had seen Hazel get angry before, but never like this. This wasn't anger, this was pure, unadulterated rage. And it was terrifying.

"Look, I know you're upset, but —"

"You don't know _anything_!" Hazel screeched. "You think I'm hurting because you left, aren't you? You think I'm mad because you didn't contact me, don't you? I'm not mad, I'm _furious_ because you didn't take me with you!"

"I can handle myself —"

"I could've protected you! That's what sisters do they protect each other!"

"I didn't _need_ protecting!"

"Then what about me!" Hazel yelled, and Bree realized in shock that Hazel was crying. Hazel _never_ cried. She made other people cry all the time, sure, but Bree had never once seen the girl shed a single tear. "What about protecting my sanity!" she continued. "You have _no_, _idea_ what I went through, not knowing if you were dead or alive, knowing you were out there somewhere in the world, by yourself, knowing that there was a timer literally ticking away at the life of the only person in this world who unconditionally loves me —"

Hazel's voice was becoming choked with sobs, and it was getting harder and harder for Bree to make out what she was saying through her rant. "The others, they _tolerate_ me, that's all, and if they hadn't been friends with you than they wouldn't even have done that, because I act like a witch but I can't help it and you're the single, person in this world who understands me without even trying, the only one in this world who loves me despite what a horrible person I am —"

At this point, if Hazel was going to keep talking Bree couldn't tell because the twin's voice was racked with tears, and she fiercely grabbed herself as she shook like a leaf in the wind. "I went seven years without you, I can't lose you again!" The girl rasped, and that was all that came out of Hazel's mouth before she collapsed into the ground, practically melting like the Wicked Witch of the West. Only this wasn't a Wicked Witch, Bree realized as it hit her. Not even close. This was a girl who was alone and scared, and misunderstood by everyone in the world except one person, one person who had left her to fend for herself against a world that had done nothing but shove Hazel around until she fell and then proceed to kick her while she was down. This was a girl who had lost everything over and over again and then had the one person who had always, unconditionally love her, leave her, without the knowledge if she was going to live or die while she was gone.

This was a girl who lashed out at the world and the people in it because the world terrified her.

This was a girl who attacked everything in sight because she worried that if she hesitated, something would kill the only person who loved her.

This was a girl absolutely petrified of losing the one thing in this world she cared about.

And as this train of thought hit home, Bree let Frank hold her as everyone in the clearing stared at the one person who had never broken down as long as Bree knew her, sob like a lost little girl as her twin carefully walked over and knelt on the ground next to her. Reaching out her arms, Genevieve wrapped Hazel in a tight embrace, gently rocking her twin back and forth on the ground, telling her she was sorry, and she loved her and it would be okay.

But it wouldn't be OK. Not even close, because Genevieve was all Hazel had left, all she had ever had since they were first grown in Douglas' lab. And in less than two months, when the expiration date kicked in and Genevieve died, Hazel would have nothing left to live for.

**AN: Hello! So unfortunately, there is a very definite chance that this is the last chapter going up before next Friday (the 19****th****) unless some divine miracle of God intervenes and time is halted for a couple of hours. Sorry! But, I do have finals coming up (Grr…) and unfortunately schoolwork takes priority. Did y'all like this chapter? 8 pages, and over 3,000 words! You're welcome! ;) Were you surprised at Hazel's reaction? I've been planning it for a while. Let me know what you think in your reviews. I live on reviews. Those, and human affection make up my lifeblood. See you as soon as I can, I promise I'll be back as quickly as possible!**

**-soccermonkey413**


	5. Chapter 5

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 5 (No One, Genevieve and Bree's P.O.V.)

**Hello! Yeah I'm back! Early! What can I say, I had a little free time. I know it's a bit of a long 'introduction', but you have to read it all because it's important. And oh look at that! A point of view from Genevieve herself! Now we can finally see what's going on in that head of hers. You excited? I'll see you at the end!**

**No One**

Masks, typically used in disguise, performance and entertainment are funny things. Back in ancient times, they were used in rituals and ceremonies, and over the course of history they became more whimsical devices. They were used in the festivals of Venice, and in Shakespeare's era they were used in his plays to depict characters and genres. If you were starring in a comedy, you had very simple, stereotypical drama masks. You know what we're talking about: the twin masks side-by-side, one with the giant frown and the other wearing a creepy smile. People in tragedies had colorful, beautiful, detailed masks. Flash forward about five hundred years, and you see children wearing them on Halloween. They slip on the mask and become a pirate, a butterfly, a mermaid or a fairy. And in some cases: Bill Gates.

Genevieve used masks for almost that very same purpose.

From the very first day she'd escaped Douglas she'd began the mask-wearing tradition. Sometimes it was the sweet, naive little girl, occasionally it would be the bubbly, adorable, curious mask, and every so often she'd be the serious, brooding, silent type. These were a simple few in her repertoire. As she grew older, she learned which mask to wear and when in order to attract the least attention, she learned how to tell when other people were hiding behind disguises of their own, and most importantly: she learned how to see past them to read people. She could tell if a man offering you chocolate wanted to pet you or wanted to abduct you, she could read between the lines to see if a boy was just fine with kissing or wanted to reach home plate, she could tell by the bat of an eye if a sophomore was lying about cheating on an algebra quiz. Genevieve learned how to wear the mask, and how to dress the part. If she had on the sweet, naïve little girl mask, she'd dress with pink and make sure to look innocent. If she was bubbly and adorable, she made sure to dress in colors. If she wanted to put off a stay-away-from-me vibe, Genevieve would wear run-of-the-mill clothing and blend into the background as a wallflower.

For over seven years, she transitioned seamlessly from mask to mask, dropping one and picking up another as she travelled across the world from town to town, city to city, country to country, continent to continent. She never let the mask fall. Genevieve forgot who she was without the masks. They were how she lived and how she survived, how she kept people at bay.

She'd kiss boys for the fun of it, and went a bit further than kissing with a few of them. She'd stay out all night, or never set foot out of whatever abandoned home she'd found to stay in. She learned to use the masks to her advantage, how she could listen to the whispers of the wind, and find out what company was going huge, who invented what and which girl broke which boy's heart. She listened for hints of missing girls, or houses with more money than they knew what to do with.

Those were the houses she'd rob for supplies.

She kept the masks on because after everything had been taken from her, she still had her identity, even if she could no longer remember what it was. Somewhere buried deep inside of her, there was a girl who liked to laugh with her sister, a girl who stayed up late trying to imagine what a lake reflecting a full moon might look like, a girl who was reckless and wouldn't hesitate to break your wrist if you tried to beat her, a girl who yearned for a normal life, a girl who wished she could have a boyfriend like the couples she saw around high schools, a boy who would hold her tightly and make her feel like she was his whole world. But she hated disappointments, and that was all those wishes were, so she kissed boys when it meant nothing, listened for whispers of a powerful man looking for a teenage girl, kept an ear out for other bionic creations, and always, _always_, without fail: she kept her masks on.

But then along came Mission Creek. She hadn't planned to stay there long. Three weeks tops. Just long enough to infiltrate the high school, hear the major and minor gossip to make sure Douglas hadn't dropped in recently, pick up supplies, and get the heck out of there. Just like always. And then the plan was thrown into a tailspin when she met four people who would change her life. The Davenports, and their stepbrother Leo Dooley.

She'd planned on the sweet, upstander mask for her time in Mission Creek. Someone who people respected. Genevieve had been looking forward to it for a couple of days after the slip-up in Santa Clara County where she'd worn the scowling, serious mask and had almost killed a kid when she accidentally knocked him off a roof.

She'd been gone the next day.

But when she first talked to the Davenports after playing the upstander against Principal Perry, she sensed something _off_ about them. They weren't your typical run-of-the-mill teenagers. The older boy wasn't interested in sports, even though it looked like he could pick up half the football team and swim halfway to Hawaii without breaking a sweat. The girl could sprint like it was what she'd been born to do, seemed way too excited at what other teenagers considered normal, and tended to disappear when she got nervous. Leo was way too protective of his siblings, considering they were all older than him, and more than once she swore she'd seen him trying to X-ray a kid who apparently got too close to Bree while carrying a magnet.

And Chase was in a class all by himself. Literally. He was a sophomore who was taking senior AP Calculus, breezing through advanced physics, and he constantly offered to help her without expecting anything in return.

They were the first four people she'd met in forever who didn't wear masks, even though they seemed to be hiding something.

The first two weeks she'd been there, she'd blended into the background, like the thumb-poker at the doctor's office: invisible unless you looked for it. She'd barely gone to any of her classes, flirted with a couple boys before making it clear she wasn't interested, and listened for a hint of Douglas. When she'd learned that those four lived with Donald Davenport, she figured she could get close to them so that she could get into the home and grab maybe two million dollars, from an apparently large pile of money under a loose floorboard which hid a safe in the billionaire's bedroom. She'd convinced Chase to tutor her after Trent had cut her to the bone with his 'trash' insult, and planned to stick around for another week before she could leave and forget all about them.

But then something happened.

She began to _care_ about them. When it had first happened, it'd been too foreign for her too realize. All she knew was that she began to look forward to Bree's endless dissections of what Owen said, how he said it and what it could possibly mean. She began to try and predict what wacky thing Leo would say next. She learned to know when to duck whenever Adam brought trampolines over. And Genevieve had actually started to feel upset when she was away from Chase.

She stuck around a little longer, and then as she got to know them better, she did something she hadn't thought she'd ever be capable of doing.

Genevieve dropped her mask.

Slowly, with these four not-quite-strangers who were keeping a secret, Genevieve began to let pieces of her real self show through. She began to give real, actual responses, the way the old-Genevieve — the _actual_-Genevieve — would. She regained her sharp tongue that could cut someone down like a branch and fling insults faster than most teenage girls could text their boyfriends, she lost her fear of dressing the way she wanted, and she began to let the walls she'd built around her heart start to crumble.

When she discovered they were bionic, the masks had been tossed out the window. For almost a year she had lived with them, befriended them, and dated Chase. Best eight months of her life. But then Pierce had entered the picture of her life, and she'd been forced to fake her death and reclaim a part of her that broke her heart. Once again, she retrieved and began to wear the masks. She met up with Dakota, Elizabeth and Frank — who had admittedly tracked her down so they could kill her — and helped them regain the memories Pierce had stolen from them. She only wore one mask now, and she wore it with all her heart, mind, body and soul. The heartless mask. The person Pierce had wanted to turn her into.

She became an almost heartless weapon, one who planted bugs in his fortress and destroyed his supply trains, who killed his soldiers and hacked his bank accounts.

But when she'd heard that Hazel, Chase and his siblings were in danger, the mask had dropped. She'd grabbed them in less than two minutes, terrified that they would die. Because they were four of seven people in the world who she could be herself with.

She'd taken them with her, and she hated herself for it, hated herself for exposing them to the world she knew where it was kill or be killed, especially since none of them were murderers. But it was that or die and she couldn't bear to let the majority of the handful of people who knew the real her pass into oblivion.

The one thing she could do for them now was to keep them alive, and make sure they didn't get themselves killed by acting noble and trying to protect her. So she kept the mask on, and pushed them away so that when she died in about seven weeks, they wouldn't mourn too badly. So that the real her would be nothing but a fond memory, someone for them to wonder about and ask, "Whatever happened to _that_ Genevieve?" But their last memories of her would be far less happy. They'd be memories of the mask she now wore like a second-skin, the one of the girl who relished destruction and wanted nothing more than to murder Pierce before he could kick off the third World War purely so he could come out on top. Someone not worth saving.

It was an easy mask to wear because it was true. She enjoyed causing destruction as long as Pierce was the one on the other end suffering from it. And she craved nothing more than him dead at her feet before he could ignite a war that would end the lives of billions.

It was the mask she wore now as she talked to her ex-boyfriend.

**Genevieve**

"Why didn't you just take us with you from the get-go?" he demanded. "If you really wanted to protect us, why not just have us come with you?"

It was the first actual conversation they'd had since she'd picked up him and his siblings. Elizabeth was currently with the Davenports, giving the weekly update on the health and well-being of their children, and so Chase had taken the opportunity to ambush her, so-to-speak.

Genevieve stared at him, being careful to keep her face neutral and emotionless. She had to be careful when talking to Chase. Aside from Hazel: who had the link, and Frank: who could read anyone like a book given enough time, he saw her better than anyone.

Thinking over her words, before she opened her mouth, she raised an eyebrow coldly to buy some time. "Don't be an idiot," she snapped. "Are you really that naïve?" The words felt like poison exiting her mouth, but they worked. And they fit with the mask.

A look of hurt crossed his face, one that would have gutted the real Genevieve, but she was Genevieve the Weapon, and that Genevieve did her best to not feel any particular attachment to the teenage boy in front of her.

"You want to know why I didn't take you with me?" she repeated coolly, expression condescending. Without waiting for a reply, she answered her own question. "It's simple Chase. Look at me. Look at what I do. I kill because I have no choice, and in less than two months I'm going to die. Before that, my main and only goal is to murder a sociopath before he has the chance to start a war that will kill billions, purely so that he can come out on top. You guys aren't ready for that, it's not what you were raised for."

"We stop disasters all the time," he snapped defensively.

Genevieve laughed darkly, finding it impossible that for all his genius he could miss what was staring him right in the face.

"Let me ask you something. If you were staring at a man, bound and gagged in front of you, and you had just tortured information out of him, what would you do? He couldn't tell you anything else, and you know that waiting for him somewhere are friends, maybe a wife and children, or a dog. He has a _life_." Uh oh. Emotions were coming to the surface. Blinking slowly and staring him right in the eyes as if to let the scenario sink in, she mentally wrestled with her guilt, subdued it, and buried it once more.

"You're looking at this man you just tortured for information, and you have the means to take him out, end his life right then and there. Do you abandon him, set him free, or kill him?"

She watched him closely, knowing what the answer would be before it even left his mouth. "I'd let him go, knock him out and leave him."

Genevieve shook her head, as though disappointed, even though she knew that was exactly what he'd answer. "What would you do?" he returned.

Staring him dead in the eyes, she gave her answer with complete sincerity. "I'd kill him."

Chase stepped back in shock. "Wait, what? But you said so yourself, he has a life, you got your information —"

"He's a liability," Genevieve interrupted, cutting off his babbling. "If I set him free that man would find his way back to Pierce and tell him what he'd told me. If I abandoned him, someone would find him and nurse him back to health and _then_ he'd find his way back to Pierce to tell him what I know. By killing him, I make it seem like he was taken out on a surveillance mission, I can ensure Pierce is unaware of the information I now possess."

Bile rose into the back of her throat at the look of horror on his face, but she forced it down. How did he always do that to her? Bring her emotions so close to the surface, no matter how well she hid behind a mask? Oh please, who was she kidding? She knew the answer, she just refused to think it. "What happened to you?" he asked hoarsely.

"This is _war_ Chase," she snapped matter-of-factly, as though he were a child asking why he couldn't touch the hot stove. "War means sacrifices, war means death. It means doing things you're not prepared to do and almost always losing your humanity in the process. I didn't have any humanity to lose. I've always been this way, but I've pushed it down. Suppressed it."

He shook his head, denying the words she threw at him like weapons. "Get it into your head Chase. Even though I care about you guys, the girl you fell in love with doesn't exist anymore. She never existed in the first place. I respect you, but I certainly don't love you, and the sooner you get that into your head and give up on me the better."

Chase looked stricken and for a brief second, the mask slipped and she wanted to cry. But she forced it down. "You're lying," he said stubbornly, his voice choked. "We had something, and say what you want but it was _real_. You can't just get rid of it."

"There isn't anything for me to get rid of," she insisted, her throat beginning to close off. "Whatever you thought we had was just that: thoughts. I'm sorry that I used you like that but playing the part of an innocent girl, someone a boy could care about was too much fun. But look on the bright side. In thirty-five days, I'll die and you won't ever have to worry about me deceiving you like that again."

Before she could register what was happening, Chase gently placed a hand on her cheek. She froze, her brain halted, all rational thought ceased. "You can't fool me Genevieve. You may have fooled everyone else around you, and you may have even fooled yourself which may be the greatest trick of all, but you can't fool me. I know you too well, and I love you too much. This isn't the real you. The girl I fell in love with was. And I'm not giving up on us."

Before she could react, he placed a swift kiss on her mouth that left her lips burning and departed. Genevieve felt like she had been punched in the gut. She sat completely still, lips burning, muscles stiffening, not moving from her position until Bree came to tell her that Elizabeth was back.

PAGE BREAK

**Bree**

"I just don't understand what happened to her," Bree confessed. She and Frank were sitting behind some boulders, listening to the bug Genevieve had planted in the hopes that they'd collect useful information regarding his plans for the bionic army. "I mean, sure Genevieve was never the most open person, but she used to act nicer. And then when we got to know her she began to really care for us, but now she can barely afford to give us the time of day."

"It's how she protects herself," Frank answered.

Bree fought the urge to roll her eyes, before replying, "Protects herself? How is cutting herself off from everyone who cares about her, 'protecting herself'?"

Frank shrugged as though it were obvious. "The more valuable you seem to her, the harder Pierce will target you. By pretending not to care about you at all, she's ensuring your safety."

"Well then she probably shouldn't have saved us from those assassins," Bree muttered petulantly. "We could've handled them," she added.

Frank laughed, but it sounded humorless. "Bree, have you ever killed someone before?"

Well, here was a new twist in the conversation. He was actually taking interest. "Of course I haven't killed anyone."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because, well, I guess I've never _needed_ to kill anyone," she replied.

Frank nodded as though he'd just won the argument. "Exactly. Genevieve, my sisters and I, Hazel: we've all killed before. We didn't have a choice in the matter. Genevieve knew you wouldn't be able to handle the guilt of taking a person's life. The assassins? They're not raised from birth with a kill-or-be-killed mindset. They already _had_ that way of thinking when Pierce found them, he just helped to teach them how to kill more effectively. If you don't kill them, you die. No holding them hostage, no knocking them out and running for it. They have to die."

Bree fought the urge to laugh with hysteria. This was insanity. "Do you see where I'm going with this?" Frank asked, and she nodded.

"And Bree? I know you don't want to hear this, but first: you and your siblings can't keep giving Genevieve grief about faking her death. Second: you three need to start listening to her more."

"Why?" she snapped, feeling nettled as they reached the sensitive topic they all danced around ever since Hazel's meltdown.

"Try looking at this from Genevieve's perspective," Frank countered. "She had the choice of letting you think she died in a fire, a situation beyond your control, or faking suicide: a situation you would've felt you could've stopped. Either way she would've been able to fake her death and leave, but in the second option you, Adam and Chase beat yourselves up over it."

"It'd be easier to forgive her if she felt bad about what she did," Bree complained.

"She did. Still does, actually. A few days after she helped us get our memories back, Genevieve told us what she'd done and how you thought she was dead. She cried for hours. And now that you're back and hate her for what she did, she's feeling even worse. I saw her sobbing to Elizabeth about it yesterday. Keep in mind that as angry as you are at her for what she did, she had to live thinking she'd never see her friends again.

Bree glared at the ground, weighing her options. Was she still mad about what Genevieve had done? Yes. Did she now understand it? Yes. Could she ever be happy about it? No. Could she accept it? Possibly. Did Genevieve feel terrible? Yes. Sighing, she gave a halfway consent. "I'll think about it."

He stared at her in silence. "OK, I'll _really_ think about it," she half-heartedly teased. "Now why do we need to listen to her more? About what?"

Frank shrugged. "She's the only one of us who's done this before, because she's the only one who's escaped and been on the run before."

"Well why can't we listen to you or your sisters? Well, you and Elizabeth. I am _not_, taking orders from Dakota," she vehemently added.

"Dakota's not a bad person, just slow to trust," Frank defended his sister. "She's a bit of a pain sometimes, but it's just because she's overprotective. And Genevieve was on the run for over seven years, she knows what she's doing and how to survive. Elizabeth and Dakota and I: we fight fine and we know how to take care of ourselves, but Genevieve has Grade A survival instincts. She knows when to fight and when to run, how to hide and where to stay. She's a master at this stuff, and her two top priorities are stopping Pierce from enacting World War III, and keeping us alive."

"What about the expiration date?" Bree demanded. "Doesn't she care about keeping _herself_ alive?"

Frank sighed and tiredly ran a hand through his hair. "That's a special case. She knows she has about a million to one chance of finding the cure for her expiration date, so she's choosing to not even look. She doesn't want to get her hopes up."

"So what, you're just letting her die?" Bree asked in disbelief, shocked that they would let that happen.

"No, but we've learned to pick our battles. Just because Genevieve refuses to look for a cure, doesn't mean we have to give up," he answered calmly.

"You're lying to her," Bree summed up.

"No, we're just not telling her everything. Curing her expiration date is like a very secret side project."

"Does Hazel know?" Bree asked.

Frank opened his mouth to respond before sitting bolt upright, eyes closed. It took her a second to realize he had heard something on the bug. "What is it?" she whispered.

"The bionic army," he whispered. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath before continuing, "It'll be finished growing in twenty days."

**AN: Hi again. Anyway, just to confirm: yes, this **_**will**_** be the last chapter before at least Friday (the 19****th****). Also, I won't be able to give approximations on the next chapters until about January 5****th****, because for Christmas break my family's going to Australia, and so there's going to be a very significant time difference. Try 12-19 hours. What did you think of the chapter? Over 4,000 words, not bad if I do say so myself. Are you nervous for the bionic army? Egad! Only twenty days left! They better hurry! Or will they? Ha! You have to wait and see! *****evil cackle. How'd you like Genevieve's perspective? Do you understand her now? Do you not want to punch her in the face anymore? Leave an answer or comment in general in your reviews, and I **_**may**_** be persuaded to update quickly. **_**May**_**. Finals suck. Love y'all!**

**-soccermonkey413**


	6. Chapter 6

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 6 (Bree's P.O.V.)

"Twenty days?" confirmed Dakota in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Come on Dakota, we knew they'd be finished eventually," injected Genevieve. "All this means is that it's happening sooner rather than later."

"Later would've been nice though," Elizabeth mused as she hung upside down from a tree branch. "This definitely decreases our timeline."

"Then how about instead of sitting around complaining about it we actually grow up, stop whining, put our heads together and think of a way to stop them," Hazel snapped in an authorative tone.

Chase scowled. "Yes Hazel, because it's the easiest thing in the world to figure out how to take on _an entire bionic army_ which will be finished growing in _twenty days_."

Bree sighed as she raked a hand through her tangled hair, making a mental note to brush it later. "Well Chase we don't exactly have a choice in the matter. We either figure out a way to stop them or Pierce starts World War III."

Elizabeth blurred and suddenly she was standing in front of Frank, pulling his arms around her in a hug. "We'll figure it out," she insisted, flashing everyone a smile.

"How can you possibly know that?" Adam demanded. Then an idea lit up his face and he grinned. "Are you psychic?"

"No Adam, I am not psychic," Elizabeth answered patiently, walking over to give him a hug. Bree noticed she seemed to hug people a lot. "But we're the good guys. And the good guys always win in the end."

At that moment, a shot rang out.

Time seemed to slow down as Bree tried to comprehend what happened afterwards. A smile still etched upon her face, Elizabeth collapsed to the ground, a crimson stain rapidly spreading out from her back as hundreds of men dressed in black emerged from the forest, carrying guns and a variety of other weapons.

Bree barely had time to think, _They found us_, before another gun was fired and her throat closed off as Frank crumpled like a dead weight, an expression of pain on his face as he feebly clutched at his shoulder, a dark patch of red spreading out to cover his chest.

With a savage cry, Dakota flew at the men like a bullet, lasers erupting from her eyes. At that, the rest of them were quickly awakened from their trance and charged out to help. Adam used his sonic blast waves and sent a few dozen men flying at a time, Chase threw miniaturized force fields before summoning his electric Bo staff, Hazel ran over to Frank, quickly pressing her hands down on his wound, trying to heal him before it was too late, and Genevieve used her pyrokinesis on men at least twenty at a time while Bree turned invisible and sped around them in groups, sucking away their oxygen and forcing them to the ground.

And then just as it looked like they might actually stand a chance at winning, a terrified scream rang out and Bree's blood ran cold. Darting over to a section of the clearing not yet overrun with fighting, she glanced around and gasped, her mouth dropping open in fear.

A female soldier was holding Dakota pinned up against her, a gun pressed to her head as she kicked and squirmed and let loose a relentless stream of insults.

The fighting slowly halted as everyone turned to see the sight, and then a charming, silky voice rang out, "My, my, my, what have we here?"

Bree did a quarter turn on her heels and saw a man in a suit enter the glade. A soft smile was on his face and he had a slight shadow on his chin as though he hadn't shaved in a while. His jacket was open and a clean, pressed white shirt had the top button undone. That combined with his hands in his pockets gave him a harmless appearance. Bree immediately wanted to relax, but something about him stopped her. She was glad she hadn't relaxed when she saw the reactions of Genevieve, Dakota and Hazel. Hazel ceased in her attempted healing and immediately jerked to her feet with her fists clenched, her whole body tensing up as she glared at the man, struggling to conceal her terror. Genevieve stood still as a statue, but Bree could tell she was either extremely nervous or extremely angry by the couple dozen trees that suddenly took part in spontaneous combustion. And Dakota's face transformed into a mask of hate and rage as she shouted curses at him, her struggles doubling in their efforts.

The relaxation went away, replaced by what felt like a metal rod in her back as she realized only one man could elicit such reactions from them. Her suspicions were confirmed when Genevieve spit out the name like it was acid. "Pierce," she snarled. "What the hell do you want with Dakota?"

Bree was about to ask why Genevieve was giving away that Dakota was on their side before realizing that if he had thought she was still working for him then he wouldn't have shot Elizabeth and Frank. Her train of thought halted abruptly at that and she fought the urge to vomit.

"Isn't it obvious my dear? I'm executing a rather hostile takeover," he said pleasantly.

Even without all the stories she had heard about him, Bree would've immediately distrusted him. He had a sparkle in his eye that meant he was either wonderfully kind, or dangerously insane, and seeing as he was staring down five bionic teenagers at once, she sincerely doubted the former.

"What do you want?" someone asked. It took Bree a moment before she realized the question had come from her. He turned to look at her and Bree stared right back, eyes beginning to water as she found herself unable to blink or look away.

"What do I want?" he repeated, as though it were the most interesting question in the world. "Why I want a great deal of things my dear, however I'm afraid you are not able to give me many of them."

Adam spoke then, in a voice so dripping with contempt Bree almost didn't recognize it. "Well then how about we don't give you any of them?" he sneered.

Pierce laughed as though that was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "My dear boy, you don't have a choice!" Still chuckling, he walked over to Adam and held out a hand. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Simon L. Pierce: I always get what I want. It's Adam isn't it? Wonderful name, wonderful name," he said with a kind smile. "Did you know Christians believe Adam to be the first man created by God? However, I sincerely doubt he had your, ah, _disadvantages_." Bree frowned in confusion, but Adam looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "You know, it's traditional for people to shake hand when meeting," Pierce said with a laugh, giving his hand a little wave to emphasize the point.

"I'll very traditionally snap that hand if you don't put it away in two seconds," her brother retorted.

Pierce laughed again, before calmly withdrawing his hand. "Very well. Now then, Bree wasn't it? I believe you asked me what I want."

She wanted to answer but couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. She couldn't name it, but something about this man terrified her beyond reason.

"Well one of the many things I want is what you have. I want G."

"You can't take her," snarled Chase with finality.

Pierce opened his mouth and yet another laugh escaped. "My dear Chase, I don't _have_ to take her. She's going to give herself over to me!"

"Now why on earth would I do that?" Genevieve demanded icily. "In case you missed the billboards I'm not a fan of hanging out with the reincarnation of Hitler."

"True, very true," Pierce allowed. "However, you _are_ fond of Dakota. And I doubt you'll let her die because you wouldn't come with me."

"Then how about option B?" Genevieve suggested. "I kill you before you so much as make a move."

Pierce laughed kindly as though she were a child asking for a toy. He laughed a lot. "But if you kill me, then S1 over there will kill Dakota. And if you burn S1, you'll send Dakota up as well. So sorry."

For the briefest of seconds Genevieve's face flitted from terrified to furious before an expression of neutrality, almost boredom, painted itself over her emotions. Bree watched her nervously, not knowing what choice to hope for. Yes she couldn't stand Dakota but she didn't want her to get killed in cold blood. But she also wouldn't be able to take it if Genevieve handed herself over to that man. Bree held her breath, not sure what she was praying for but already knowing what Genevieve would choose.

"Riddle me this Pierce," Genevieve asked in a flat tone of voice. "What assurance do I have that the second I come with you, you won't just shoot everyone else in the clearing?"

He smiled pleasantly. "You have my word."

"Your word isn't worth teeth," Genevieve replied as she folded her arms, now employing the same silky voice Pierce was using. "How about this: I kill every soldier here _except_ you and S1, the others leave, I come over to you and you release Dakota."

Pierce's smile grew. "You're not that powerful."

"Are you sure?" asked Genevieve softly, as she stepped up until she was right in front of him. "Are you _absolutely_ _sure_ about that?"

Bree saw his smile waver uncertainly as he stared at the teenage girl in front of him, the one who currently held his life in her hands. "Go ahead," he said, as he took a step back and spread out his arms. "Kill them if you can. I accept your deal."

Bree's mouth dropped as his men all turned to face him before their agonized screams filled the clearing for a grand total of two seconds as white hot, hungry flames consumed them, the fingers greedily eating away at their flesh before they vanished from existence, the clearing now covered in scorched bones and ashes. Bree's stomach churned as her breakfast threatened to make an untimely reappearance. _NO. You _cannot_ throw up during a showdown. Hold it in,_ she commanded herself.

For the briefest of seconds Bree glimpsed fear flash across his face as he stared at an unremorseful Genevieve surrounded by the remains of his dead soldiers. "Part one of our deal is complete," Pierce said, and Bree swore she'd heard his voice shake. "Now your friends will leave and you will come with me."

Genevieve walked over to them, her expression losing its boredom and becoming jumpy and intense as Bree started shaking her head, knowing what she'd say. "You have to get out of here."

The siblings immediately protested, and Genevieve's face darkened. "Listen to me!" she hissed at them. "If I don't go with them, he'll kill her. I have enough death on my conscience as it is."

"Well we don't want to have to watch you die over and over," Adam whisper-snapped. "You won't get lucky a second time."

"I won't have to be lucky if you go. Think about it: by not being captured, you have the chance to break us out," she insisted. Bree tiredly rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. This was unreal.

"Genevieve I can't lose you again," Chase whispered, and Bree raised her eyes to see her lovingly place a hand on his chest.

"You're not leaving me Chase. You're doubling my chances," she said, flashing him a smile. "Now go. Take Frank and Elizabeth and give them a proper burial. I'll have him send Dakota over in a minute.

She walked back over and Bree sped over to Elizabeth, feeling a horrible tickling feeling in her throat as she picked her up and the damp fabric soaked her hands.

Walking over to the others who were surrounding Frank and Hazel who was still kneeling next to him determinedly trying to heal him, Bree gently set the girl down, stroking her hair out of her face. Turning around, she saw Pierce strap a pair of glowing gold and green cuffs onto Genevieve's wrists. "To cancel your bionics," he explained kindly, as though she was a small child and he was telling her why she couldn't touch the hot stove.

Once her cuffs clicked together, he withdrew two sets of chains somewhere out of his suit and clicked one pair around her wrists, and the other on her legs. "Take her," he called over to the girl he'd earlier called S1.

Giving a nod, she geo-leapt out.

Still carrying Dakota.

Genevieve's face contorted with hatred. "We had a deal!" she screamed at Pierce, chains clanking as she lunged. Instead of stepping away or even blocking her like Bree had expected him to, he leapt towards her and grabbed her around the waist, geo-leaping as he did so.

All of this happened in less than ten seconds and Bree was left reeling. _OK,_ she thought dazedly. _OK, _now_ you can throw up_.

Running over to a tree, she did just that as she emptied her stomach onto the ground, bile stinging her throat and tears stinging her eyes.

**AN:**

***Guiltily pokes head out from behind a book. Hellooooo… OK, before you kill me for being over two weeks late, I would just like to say I had a very worthy explanation! And unlike most of my explanations, this one is actually at least halfway decent. See, do y'all remember how I said at the end of last chapter that I'd be going on vacation to Australia over Christmas break? Well I just got back yesterday and had killer jet lag, and the reason I didn't upload during my stay was because I wasn't informed that I couldn't bring my laptop on the trip. Now if there was a way for me to somehow upload stories to a computer on the other side of the world, I would've been more than happy to use it. But unfortunately teleportation and geo-leaping are still in the CIA's production stage, and so I was basically out of options. Anyway, now that finals are finished for another 18-20 weeks and we just got back from a 2-week vacation (meaning we're light on homework), expect slightly more updates for a while. It depends on how long it takes for them to start piling up on homework again. I expect by Wednesday. *sigh. Anyway, another reason this is taking so long is because I've decided to rewrite And Then There Were Four. Before you panic, same plot line, same happenings, same everything, just better. Because I reread it while I got bored and decided that it sucks. The characters are undeveloped and two dimensional, I wrote from their different perspectives all-wrong, it's much too short and it's **_**way**_** too unrealistic. (Ignoring the fact that bionics in general are unrealistic.) I won't actively start rewriting until I'm finished with OOS, but I'm starting to get it planned out. Don't worry, you'll thank me once you see the new and improved version. Also, even though I adore Lab Rats, it's not the only show I watch, and I'm working on a project for another show. It'll come out after OOS, but before I start publishing my 'A Touch of Magic' series, but since it's still in the works you'll have to wait for details. When I have a title and summary I'll tell you and you can check it out on my profile. Until next time!**

**-soccermonkey413**


	7. Chapter 7

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 7 (Genevieve's P.O.V.)

**Attention: I need to warn you, that this is a very intense chapter. Not exactly gory, just psychologically disturbing. I kept cringing and was afraid to open my mouth for 20 minutes after writing this. Also, there's nothing graphic, but I do touch on sexual abuse. Nothing happens, but I thought I should warn you because I heard about these things called trigger warnings, and I thought I might need to put one in. And the thing Pierce hints at towards the end, I won't do anything overly graphic. Enjoy, and I apologize in advance for possibly scarring you for life.**

When most girls were chained to a wall in a prison, they would probably sit huddled up in a ball in a corner and cry themselves to sleep. They'd stay that way for a while hoping someone would rescue them or become completely hysterical, convinced they were going to die any minute. But when Pierce had ordered S1 – who seemed to be his personal assistant – to chain her to a wall, Genevieve hadn't cried or hoped or curled into a ball. Instead she unsuccessfully tried to prove that looks _could_ kill by relentlessly glaring at him while he lounged against the cell bars, staring satisfactorily at her. "You know G, _you_, have been most difficult to track down," he began conversationally. She kept her face stony as he smiled, as though informing her that red brought out her eyes. "I mean really, you truly have no idea what kind of trouble I've been through to get you. And to think, that after all of the resources that I've exerted, all it really took to capture you was to hold one of your friends hostage!" Pierce laughed, as though it were the most delightful thing in existence.

The next several minutes were more or less of the same pattern, as he walked up to her and examined every inch of her body. Literally, _every_ inch. She fought the urge to vomit as bile rose into the back of her throat when he unzipped her outfit down to her hips and explored her chest with his hands. "Very nice, good muscle, solid build, pretty easy on the eyes if I do say so myself," he mused, tossing her a wink at the end. Waving his hand, a chair materialized in the room and Genevieve had to fight very hard to keep her expression neutral. "Like my new trick?" Pierce asked with a smile. "Not only can I geo-leap, but I can use it to teleport objects to me. Pretty handy huh?" She refused to answer, and instead hawked up a gob of spit and hurled it at him. Still smiling, he calmly reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned the phlegm off of his face. Then he walked up to two paces away from her, reached back a hand and slapped her across the face so hard she saw stars. "Lesson number one: you do not disrespect me. Understood? Learn it well." As a response, she worked up another ball of saliva and spat it at him. Giving a sigh of disappointment, he once more cleaned off the spittle before drawing back and punching her in the nose. Her vision flashed to black and she heard a distinctive cracking sound as her head whipped back and smashed into the wall. She pressed her lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of causing her to moan as blood poured down her face.

"And here I was, hoping we could be great friends," he said sadly, as though genuinely disappointed.

"Ib duh only way yu can get briends is by kidnapping dem den dank God bor Facebook," Genevieve grumbled angrily.

Pierce laughed and clapped his hands together happily. "Oh you _can_ speak!" he cheered. "I was beginning to wonder if you ever would," he confided to her. "And now that you're not mute anymore…" snapping his fingers, a goon appeared around the corner and opened the cell door. "We're going to have a little fun!"

"Why do I hab a beeling yur 'fun' involves someding similar do uh 'orror movie?" she muttered in distaste, her comment somewhat marred by her still bleeding nose. At another snap of her fingers, the goon walked forward and snapped her nose back into place, sending a sharp pain spider-webbing across her face as fresh blood poured down her chin. Placing her into the bionic-canceling handcuffs, he released her from the bionic-canceling chains and marched her down the hall. "Keep in mind that if you try to escape, D is dead," Pierce reminded her. As though she needed reminding.

"So where do you think you're going?" he asked excitedly. "Go on! Try and figure it out!"

"Whell seeing as you just boke my nose, I'm guessing it's dot to star ob America's Next Tob Model," she replied snidely, taking note of the passages they walked through and whether or not the walls were flammable.

She was ready for the smack so it almost didn't hurt that time. Almost.

After a long series of twists and turns, stainless steel doors, and seemingly never-ending hallways that scream, 'my-mom-gave-me-this-evil-lair-for-my-birthday', they stopped walking and the thug shoved her into a room before following suit after Pierce. Taking her arm, he gently guided her over to a large, clear box. Pressing a button on the side, the chain holding the cuffs together clinked and withdrew, leaving her with two chunky metal bracelets. He opened the door and she walked in, allowing him to close it behind her. "You see G," he called through the glass. "If I'm going to train my army to be stronger than you, I need to know what it takes to break you. See where I'm going?" Sweat began to dot her forehead and she wiped it away, struggling to control her breathing as a terrible, terrible feeling gripped her. Pierce held up a vial filled with a red liquid he'd taken from her when his minion broke her nose.

"And 'ere I was dinking you werebt a wambire," she yelled back. Giving her a small smile, he opened a compartment and deposited the vial in it, blood and all. Robotic arms suddenly shot out of the walls and forced her to the ground before what looked like a high-tech hat lowered from the ceiling and onto her head. She screamed as what felt like a billion bolts of electricity swarmed her head. Images flashed before her eyes at about a mile a minute and then before she knew it, it was over. The hat withdrew itself back out the ceiling, the arms retracted into the walls and she fell to her knees, quickly trying to steady her breathing as she wiped furious tears from her eyes.

The Spark-hat as she'd dubbed it, floated over to Pierce and he turned it around and withdrew what looked like a flash drive from the back of it, before inserting said flash drive into something that resembled a computer that had been melted onto a desk. He took the Spark-hat and placed it in a drawer, and she sighed in disappointment when it didn't appear to shock him.

"Would you like to know what happened?" he asked cordially.

She glared at him, and he seemed to take that as a yes. "See, what the LBT7 did was it flashed roughly two million scenarios in front of your eyes, just slow enough for your subconscious to register them. And the ones where your reaction spiked – your fears – that is what you are now going to be experiencing. Well, one of them anyway. You know," he said after a slight pause, "I'm actually impressed. Most people have at least a dozen. You merely had six." Still chuckling to himself, he continued what looked like typing on something that resembled Mr. Davenport's cyber-desk. Holding a finger over what she guessed was some sort of keypad, he gave her a wicked grin. "Brace yourself," he warned her kindly, before pressing a red button. A pearly white fog immediately began filling the chamber and she began to choke, her throat closing off, repeatedly gagging as she fell to her knees. Her vision turned black before everything suddenly cleared. Rising to her feet in confusion, she looked around, trying to figure out why she suddenly seemed to be standing in a pearly white meadow. She felt a tickling sensation on her arm and absently scratched it as she tried to figure out where she was. The tickling returned and intensified, and a scowl fixed itself on her face as she looked at her arm to see —

A bug.

A shudder raced down her spine and she quickly tried to flick it off. But when she did, another crawled around from the underside of her arm. _Not bugs, _she silently prayed. _Please, I'm begging here, anything but bugs._ The bug crawled it's way up to her elbow until she finally managed to brush it off. Another one then appeared, this one on her leg as it squirmed it's way down from her shorts. A shudder racked her body as she desperately swept it off and began backing away, her breathing becoming shallow. _Not bugs not bugs not bugs_, she silently chanted. She felt something tickle the back of her neck and she automatically slapped it, bringing her hand around to see a smear of blood and wings and legs. Her throat dried as she burned it off her hand, not even feeling the pain through her terror. Genevieve opened her mouth to try and control her breathing and felt a great flurry of tickles inside her mouth as insects crawled out of her teeth and into her gums and across her cheeks and insects suddenly crawled out of her clothes and wriggled out of her pores.

Genevieve snapped, screaming in horror, desperately brushing them off, setting them on fire and burning her arms in the process, doing some sort of weird dance craze in a desperate attempt to get rid of them, but for every one she shooed away, at least ten more took their place. She began sobbing, jumping up and down, and slapping herself until she gave up, the endless flutter of wings and legs everywhere, on her legs, in her ears, under her tongue, beneath her clothes…

Gasping, tears streaming down her face, she tried to shut her eyes, but that just kept the bugs there, so she left them open and just crumbled, folding in on herself into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible.

After for whatever amount of time she was there, her vision suddenly tipped and pearly fog filled wherever she was and then there was no more tickling. No more bugs, no more pearly fog. Slowly extricating herself from a ball, she winced as her muscles cramped up, gingerly getting to her feet, her body repeatedly performing involuntary shudders from time to time, her eyes twitching around, searching for any sign of insects.

"Have fun did we?" asked an all-too-cheerful voice.

Tears still racing down her cheeks, she defiantly punched the glass wall separating the two of them. "Screw you," she rasped out, voice hoarse from screaming. "Screw. You."

"Oh, you mean you didn't enjoy that?" Pierce frowned in confusion, looking genuinely disappointed.

"Monster!" she yelled at him. Shaking his head sadly, a smile on his face, he snapped his fingers and a thug walked in. Genevieve launched herself at him, not caring who it was, just anxiously trying to punch him, tear his hair out, kick him, hurt him in any way that she could. But then she screamed and dropped like a stone, collapsing as her wrists began smoking from the amount of electricity being forced into them through the cuffs.

"Lesson number two," Pierce chastised. "Respect my workers."

Steeling what was left of her nerves, she took a deep breath as her wrists stopped being charred off, the pain reduced to just feeling like they were being sawed at. She refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking her. She would hold it together just to spite him.

Grabbing one of her wrists, the goon she'd just tried to murder clicked a button and her wrists were once again chained together. They made the endless march back to her room, a constant pounding in her ears from the blood pounding through her temples. She was shoved into her cell where she looked up, and focused her blurry vision on the wall in front of her, forcing herself to calm down, making her breath steady as they chained her up. Pierce snapped his fingers and the man left, leaving the two of them alone.

Pierce smiled, and walked over, a bit of a happy-go-lucky spring in his step. Unzipping her top, his hand drifted toward her chest until she kneed him where she knew it would be the most effective. She was rewarded by an expression of pain on his face, something she didn't know he was capable of experiencing. A soft wheeze left his mouth and he dropped to the ground, cradling his… area.

He looked up at her, hate filling his features. Genevieve should probably have been terrified, but was too pleased with how carefully he had to rise to his feet. He placed both hands on the wall behind her head, scowling at her intently, before a soft smile traced his features. "You probably think I'm going to cause you physical pain don't you? Well you're wrong," he whispered. "See, I've learned that a more effective tactic in breaking girls such as yourself is to hit them where it hurts."

"I'm sure you loved that experience, didn't you?" she retorted, pointedly glancing at his crotch. Holding her head in his hands, he placed his lips on her neck, firmly kissing her, sucking at the skin and she shuddered, eyes rolling back into her head from the sensation. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she focused on breathing until she had enough presence of mind to snap her head forward hard enough to knock him back. Sickened to see him grinning in triumph, she tried to fold her body in on itself, hiding her exposed chest from view. "Like I said: hit a girl where it hurts. At the end of this week, you will be lead to my room at nine o'clock. I'm sure you can guess what's next." Smiling, leaving her stripped and half-naked, he walked out, locking her door behind him. Shivering as the cold air wrapper around her torso, she allowed two tears to slip past her eyes, gluing her lashes together before tightening her jaw. If he broke her, he'd win. And he would _not_ win. She would keep it together, and for as long as he tried to break her, she'd pay him back for it tenfold.


	8. Chapter 8

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 8 (Genevieve and Hazel's P.O.V.)

**Genevieve**

Dropping to her knees, Genevieve opened her mouth and spewed out a litany of cuss words as the simulation faded away. Doing a scan around, a sigh of relief pushed past her lips as she saw only the white, clean walls of The Box, not the barbequed bodies of her friends. Pierce did his data scans and made meaningless small talk she didn't even pretend to listen to. Six days in and she now offered only token resistance. She refused to eat her meals or drink the provided water, hoping she could use that as a way out, but Pierce had noticed and now twice a day he used the feeding tube he'd inserted into her stomach. When she attempted to make herself throw it up, he would use the chains and cuffs to char her wrists.

The door hissed open and she rose to her feet, extending her hands for the cuffs to be relinked together by one of the many nameless, faceless goons. Now that she'd seen them without their masks on, Genevieve knew that they all looked the same: godlike. Genetic perfection, to put it modestly, they were each devastatingly beautiful. Not handsome, or hot, or anything like that, just simply beautiful. And so to avoid thinking about it, a few days ago she decided to simply call each of them Terminator. Sounds trickled in, but her brain had trouble registering them. It was always the same after a session in The Box: sensory depravation. Her vision dimmed and flashed, her nose felt stuffed with feathers, her mouth tasted like salt and metal, she couldn't feel her fingers and it sounded like she had cotton blocking her ears. They reached her cell, and Terminator shoved her in. Pierce dismissed him and she raised glassy eyes to him, her vision no longer flashing.

Giving a sigh, he raised her eyes to him, making her shudder in revulsion. "So much damage," he murmured, running hands up and down her arms. "This pain could all be avoided if you just gave me your chip."

A dozen sarcastic responses crowded to her lips, but she bit them back, and simply glared at him, hatred flowing out of her eyeballs.

Shaking his head in disappointment, he gave her a pat on the head before walking out. She waited until his footsteps had faded away and until she couldn't even hear the talking of the Terminators who always seemed to be everywhere. She waited for hours, until she was absolutely positive she was alone. Then summoning her energy, she drew upon her body heat. Pushing past the pain that suddenly flared at the base of her neck, she fought past the block the cuffs provided and slowly, agonizingly, as she had for the past six days, continued with her process of melting the cuffs.

**Hazel**

"Chase, for the last time: you can go with me, _when you can turn invisible_!" Hazel snapped at him, clipping off the ends of her words.

"Well what about Bree? She can turn invisible," Chase argued.

"Yes, but she's also the only one of us with super-speed. We need her to be ready to get us out of there."

This was the exact same argument they'd had for the past few days. Hazel had managed to heal Frank, but Elizabeth had been dead before she'd reached her. He currently watched them argue, looking stony and she couldn't blame him. One of his sisters had died and the other had been taken prisoner in less than two days. "Look Chase. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. The tunnel Frank told us about will only be able to get everyone out if _I'm_ the only one _getting_ Dakota and Genevieve out."

He opened his mouth to argue again and she took a different tactic. "Look. I know you love her, but so do I. She's my sister and right now she's the only person in this world I've got. Do you really think I won't do everything physically possible to protect her and get her out safely?"

Chase sighed, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and finally relented. "OK," he muttered. "You go in alone."

"Thank you," she growled, her patience having been worn down after days of constant bickering. Raising her eyes, she appraised the building and worked out a kink in her shoulder. "Frank, you said the best time for me to go would be in between four to five A.M. right?" He nodded, just as Bree and Adam came back from their surveillance.

"All clear," Adam reported.

Hazel took a deep breath, fighting the constant undercurrent of worry that threatened to overwhelm her mind as she looked at them. "OK then. And now we wait. Three A.M. we'll get into positions. Good?"

They nodded, and settled down to review the plan one more time.

**Genevieve**

"You know, I think you might need new cuffs," Pierce said, his voice lancing through the ever-present fog that consumed her mind. Blinking rapidly, she tried to focus on him but failed miserably.

Genevieve was tempted to ask why he was here, since she'd just had her session in The Box an hour ago, but her throat was to dry for her to do anything more than croak.

Snapping his fingers, a Terminator appeared and after the standard procedure from being cuffed to the wall to just plain cuffed, he lead her down the innumerable hallways to the room with The Box. She didn't even try to fight the colorful vocabulary that tumbled from her lips in a raspy voice that sounded like she was trying to mimic a lizard as she wondered what fear it would be this time. The most recent three she'd had were spiders and bugs, scientists, and her using pyrokinesis to murder her friends. That meant it would probably be either her helping Pierce destroy the world, Genevieve leading the bionic army, or the sensation of killing people and enjoying it.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it took her a minute to recognize that The Spark-Hat wasn't being placed on her head. Instead, it was floating over to a girl who was being dragged in as she screamed and yelled all sorts of vile things at the Terminators dragging in, "Dakota," she breathed.

The older girl saw her and her eyes widened, redoubling her struggles in an attempt to get to her as Genevieve took in her appearance. She didn't look too terrible. A black eye and a number of scrapes and bruises though, not to mention her clothes were in tatters.

Before she knew what was happening, The Spark-Hat was on Dakota and Dakota was in The Box. "You see G," said Pierce conversationally, "I've had an epiphany. If you won't take out your chip to save yourself pain, you might do it to prevent D from experiencing the unpleasantness."

Pearly white fog flowed into The Box, its marble fingers reaching out and clutching at Dakota, as she covered her eyes. The fog cleared and Genevieve saw for the first time what the experience was like. Dakota looked around in confusion for a moment before beginning to scream. She threw herself backwards towards the wall, covering her face in screaming.

Her chin drooped to meet her chest and as she heard Dakota screams rip through the air, for the first time since the two of them had been brought there, Genevieve began to cry.

Some logical part of her brain knew it was only a few moments, but it seemed like an eternity. The fog came back and Dakota dropped to her knees, muttering and twitching as she anxiously looked around, tear tracks clearly visible on her face.

"Now are you ready to hand it over?" Pierce asked pleasantly.

"Don't. You. _Dare_!" Dakota yelled through the glass, pounding on the walls. "Gwen, listen to me, don't do it, don't you dare give him your chip!" Pierce pressed a button on a bracelet on his wrist and the familiar smoke began to rise from her cuffs as the torture devices on Dakota's wrists were activated. Muffled screams pushed past her lips as she fell to the ground, and Genevieve watched in horror, before turning away.

"This will all stop if you just give me your chip," Pierce coaxed, whispering in her ear. And it was tempting. It was so, so tempting to give him the chip and make all the pain go away. But she didn't.

Instead, she fell into her old habit of making a bad situation worse, looked him right in the eye and spat, "Screw you. The only way you're getting that chip is by prying it out of my cold, dead fingers."

A scowl rippled across his face, and he slapped her hard enough to make her see stars. Grabbing her by the wrist, Dakota was dragged out as a Terminator shoved her into The Box. The hat went on, the fog came in, and next thing she knew Genevieve was facing an army of the Terminators, roughly two hundred.

"Oh goodie," she growled. "For a minute there I was worried this would be too easy."


	9. Chapter 9

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 9 (Genevieve and Bree's P.O.V.)

**Genevieve**

She was in The Box when the bells first started ringing. Genevieve was tucked into a ball, ears covered and eyes closed as always, and then the sensation of millions of legs on her arms was replaced with the cool, stale air of The Box, and loud, obnoxious clanging's were sounding throughout the room. Slowly standing up, she took in the surroundings. Dakota was chained so heavily she could barely move and Pierce was exchanging rapid words with the Terminator who seemed to have been placed in control of Genevieve and Dakota.

A few seconds later, he scowled and slammed a fist down onto the control panel, sending sparks flying out of it. "Damn her!" he roared, before charging out of the room.

The Terminator moved towards the door of the room, standing there, body tense, hands behind his back, waiting for whatever was causing the alarms. Her answer was answered shortly afterwards when ice began creeping over the Terminators boots, causing him to look down in confusion. The confusion didn't last long however, as he was then knocked over the head with a floating crowbar. The wielder of said crowbar then rippled into existence, and Genevieve laughed out loud, the sound unfamiliar and strange in her mouth. Hazel ran over to the computer and placed her hands on it, closing her eyes in concentration. Ice spread outwards from her fingers, and as she worked Genevieve closed her eyes and let the link data flow. Smiling, she embraced the sensation like a cup of hot chocolate in the winter while filling the hole that had been in the back of her mind ever since she and her twin were separated.

With a bang! the door to the Box slammed open, and Hazel ran inside, embracing Genevieve, tears streaming down her face as she took in her beaten appearance. "My gosh Genevieve, what the hell did they do to you in here?" she demanded, before freezing off the half-melted cuffs. "I'm assuming they were supposed to cancel bionics?" Hazel clarified as she helped Genevieve out of the Box and over to Dakota. Placing her fingers on the chains, Genevieve watched as Hazel turned the metal to a brittle ice, allowing Dakota to snap it as she stood up. "Grab my hands, I'll make us invisible," Hazel instructed.

"How did you even get in here?" Genevieve demanded.

"Two words. Peanut butter. Lots and lots of peanut butter," Hazel replied, before swearing violently as she took in Genevieve's charred wrists. "He's going to die," she muttered, before Hazel slid her hands into Genevieve and Dakota's.

"How can you make us invisible?" Dakota asked.

"It's different than Bree's, if that's what you're wondering," Hazel replied. "Bree's ability camouflages her cells to allow light pass through them, rendering her invisible. I put out a sort of bubble that reflects the light around me, so you can sort of see me, but it's like trying to find a shadow in a cave. Nearly impossible." As she was speaking, she had spread out said bubble and started them on their way out.

They had been running for only a few minutes, but a stitch was already seared into Genevieve's side and her breath was coming in short gasps. The scant nourishment coupled with long sessions of physical, mental and emotional torture, added to the only exercise being her walks to back and from the Box had taken an extravagant toll on her body. She could tell that Dakota wasn't fairing much better, possibly worse since aside from her sessions in the Box she had no idea what had been done to her.

"You do know how to get out of here right?" wheezed Genevieve as they passed yet another Terminator running to the source of Hazel's distraction.

"Trust me we're fine." Hazel assured her. "We're rendezvousing with Bree: she'll get us back to the others, and I know how to get us out: hurry up, we're almost to the exit."

"We're going… as fast… as we can…" Dakota panted, jogging alongside them.

Eventually, Genevieve lost track of time. All she could keep doing was do her best to ignore the stitch in her side, and just keep putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could. Left… right… left… right… left…

"Duck!" a voice screamed, jarring her from the trance. Jerking her head up, she shrieked and threw herself out of the way of an energy ball flying at her head. In the process though, she separated herself from Hazel, rendering her visible again.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" mused a voice.

Swearing violently, Genevieve spun on her heels, falling to the floor in the process. Cheeks burning and still swearing, she rose to her feet, facing the man who had taken everything form her. "I'm sorry, did you need a two-weeks notice?" she snapped, making a show of dusting herself off. Sending a mental wave out, Genevieve located Hazel's center of gravity and slowly began edging towards her sister, linking her to get Hazel to come over.

A sharp pain ripped through her back, and a ragged scream tore its way out of her throat as Genevieve was shot from behind. Dropping to her knees, tears began leaking down her face as the warm, slippery blood flowed down her back and chest. Searing hands grabbed her arms, yanking her to her feet, and she sucked in a breath, willing herself to stop crying. "You're coming back. I don't know how you got this far, but it's not happening again. You're never escaping me." Pierce laughed. Pierce _always_ laughed. "Never."

At that, something in her snapped. A deep, primal beast rose up in her, swirling and jerking and tearing somewhere inside until she thought she might burst, culminating in Genevieve opening her mouth and letting out a loud, long yell. Sending out her senses, she focused on the greatest heat source in the solar system. Closing her eyes, Genevieve drew upon the heat of the sun. She drew it deep inside her fingertips, focusing on all of her rage as she felt heat flood threw her like a drug, and still screaming, she threw the fire outwards in one, massive blast.

**Bree**

"What was that?" Bree asked, forgetting for a minute that no one could answer as she took in the giant, mushroom shaped cloud of smoke that had followed the sound of an explosion.

"You seeing this Bree?" crackled in a voice from her coms piece.

"I see it Adam," she replied. "I'm going in."

Now Frank's voice was added to the mix. "Bree, no. We don't know what happened and the plan is for you to stay there."

"Screw the plan, they won't be able to ask for help if they're dead," she snapped. Taking a deep breath, Bree zipped off, to the compound, skidding to a halt at the sight that greeted her.

Fire.

Fire was everywhere, it's white-hot hungry fingers stretching across the entire building. Covering her hands with her mouth in an effort to keep the smoke out, Bree ducked into the building. "Genevieve! Hazel! Dakota!" she screamed, calling out for them as she ran through the building, desperately looking for them as fast as her legs could carry her. _Think Bree. Think! Where would they be?_ She desperately racked her brains, thinking of anything Frank had said that could help her. Pouring through conversations, it clicked. For an explosion that huge to happen, Genevieve would've needed to draw on a _massive_ heat source. And the only heat source big enough to create an explosion that big – the sun – could only be accessed in one place. Taking off again, she held her breath, resisting the urge to breathe in smoke as she zipped over to the glass-ceiling Refectory.

When Bree got there she almost wished she hadn't. Burned bodies littered the room, and charred clothing along with something-or-another rained down, some of it still on fire. In the center were three girls, two of them on the ground. Dashing over, she was greeted with a scene that belonged in her nightmares.

Dakota looked like she'd stood in as a piñata where lasers were used instead of baseball bats, standing above the twins with burns covering her legs and arms and bruises decorating her face, blood trickling out of her nose and ear. Hazel didn't look completely terrible but her skin had turned red enough to pass for a stop sign. On the other hand, if it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of Genevieve's chest, Bree would've assumed she was dead. She was covered in blood, and her eyes were closed, and the bottom six inches of her hair had been seared off. Her skin wasn't even its normal color, it was covered in a rainbow of blood and bruises. "Will she be OK?" she asked Hazel, her voice trembling.

"Will who be OK? Bree what's happening?" demanded Chase.

"Genevieve's hurt. Badly," she replied, trying to quell the shaking in her voice.

"What?" he whispered. "Is she, you know. Breathing?"

Bree nodded and then remembered he couldn't see her. "She's still alive. Hazel's working on her. I'll get us out of here as soon as I can. I'm bringing Dakota over now."

Turning to the older girl she held out an arm. "Give me your hand," she instructed.

Complying, Dakota slid her hand into Bree's, the skin burning feverishly. "I'll be back as soon as I can Hazel," Bree assured her, before taking one last look at the building burning to memorize her position and shooting away, dragging the older girl with her.

"Bree talk to me. Where are you?" Frank asked.

"I'm coming up on the meeting point now," she answered as she zoomed into the clearing. She barely had time to hear Dakota scream, "Frank you're alive!" and see her tackle him in a hug before she ran back to the bunker in search of the twins.

When she was halfway through the compound, she forgot she wasn't supposed to breathe and accidentally inhaled a mouthful of smoke. Gagging as the charcoal taste hit the back of her throat she tripped over her own feet and hit the ground hard. Rolling back up to a standing position as tears forced their way into her eyes she forced herself to keep running until she hit the Refectory. By the time she got back, Genevieve was at least doing better. If better qualified as twitching in pain every few seconds due to being conscious. "Alright guys come on, we need to go," Bree insisted. Reaching out a hand, she and Hazel both tugged Genevieve up, doing her best to ignore the whimper as Genevieve stood on what looked like a broken leg. Slinging her arms around both of them, she took off for where she'd just dropped off Hazel.

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world. They had to stop every couple of seconds because Genevieve was unconscious again and kept slipping out of Bree's grip. But eventually they made it. "Quick, put her on the ground," Hazel demanded. Gently unwinding her arms, Bree lowered Genevieve to the ground by her shoulders.

Hazel quickly went to work, the bruises and abrasions on her sister's skin fading away while Bree headed over to Dakota, who was clutching Frank like a lifeline and sobbing. "You couldn't have done anything to help her," he murmured.

"I'm – _sob_ – her sister. I should've – _sob_ – done something."

"Dakota, she was dead before Hazel got to her. There was nothing anyone could've done," he insisted. Bree turned away, feeling guilty for intruding on such a private moment, and instead headed back over to her siblings and the twins. Genevieve was looking considerably more human, considering the fact that a couple of minutes ago you couldn't even tell if she was dead or alive. Her eyes were now bright and alert, although looking into them was like throwing yourself into a river of pain and torture, and about fifty percent of her injuries were healed. Even as Bree watched, the bruises on her arms faded away, the skin swirling back to its normal color and the slashes covering up and stitching themselves back together.

"She's going to be OK," breathed Hazel, sitting back on her heels and rolling out her shoulders. Bree exhaled slowly in relief, a knot of tension that she hadn't known she had draining out of her back.

However, she wasn't going to be completely OK, and she knew Chase and Hazel saw it too. Something had happened to Genevieve while she was imprisoned in Pierce's fortress, something unspeakable. And even if she didn't know what it was, Bree knew she would find a way to make Pierce pay for it.


	10. Chapter 10

A Lab Rats Fanfic

Out of Sight

Chapter 10 (Genevieve's P.O.V.)

**AN: Hello! OK, this'll be fast I promise. I'm not going to lie: I've been excited about this chapter ever since I finished the outline for the book. Hee hee hee… here's a hint. A couple gets together! Will Bree and Frank kiss? Do Genevieve and Chase **_**finally**_** stop denying their feelings for one another? Well, will **_**Genevieve**_** stop denying her feelings. Chase has been pretty open so far. Wait and see…**

"Genevieve, if I ask a question will you give me an honest answer?" Bree asked.

From her perch on a rock, Genevieve shrugged in response. "That depends on the question," she said.

"Well, isn't it possible that you could make Pierce stop chasing you if you just, you know. Destroyed your chip?"

The question was the equivalent of dropping a nuclear bomb on the premises. Sound immediately died away and everyone stared at Bree as though she were insane. "Don't you know _anything_?" Hazel demanded as Dakota at the same time snapped, "Are you _crazy_?"

"Guys relax, it's a fair question," Genevieve relented. Turning to Bree she replied, "I promise that I'm being honest. I've considered it because it would make Pierce stop hunting me, just not in the way that you think. See, your chips are fused with your nervous systems. Mine helps control my nervous system, including my brain. Removing it would either kill me or make me permanently comatose."

Adam raised his hand. "I have a question," he stated.

Genevieve inclined her head, stating for him to go ahead. "Is there any part of your life that doesn't involve you almost dying?"

"Adam!" Chase hissed as he smacked his older brother on the arm, inciting a yelp of indignation.

"Sadly no," Genevieve replied with a small smile.

Hazel stood. "Come on guys, we need to keep moving if we're going to find a new hideout by tonight."

Everyone except Dakota – who was asleep – and Genevieve – who had a severely broken ankle – stood up. Adam walked over to Dakota and being uncharacteristically gentle, picked her up in his arms as Frank headed over to Genevieve. He reached out a hand but she smacked it aside with a scowl. "I can walk by myself Frank," she snapped.

Hazel snorted. "Yeah right. You'd fall over in a second."

"I would not!" Genevieve retorted.

"You're right. I'll be generous. A second and a half. Now let him carry you or so help me I will freeze you into submission."

Genevieve rolled her eyes but complied, looping her arms around Frank's neck and giving a little hiss of pain as he jarred her ankle. "Sorry," he muttered and she gave a little giggle as his chest rumbled against her arms. The laugh died in her throat though as she saw jealously flash across Chase's face. Strangling her guilt, she focused on tightening her grip and keeping her leg as stiff and unmoving as possible.

PAGE BREAK

If there was one thing that annoyed Genevieve more than the hunger pains, it was the insomnia. She couldn't count the number of sleepless nights she'd had ever since she'd first left the Davenports. All she knew for sure was that it caused the shadows under her eyes to make the bruises from Pierce look downright invisible.

As the mere thought of his name crossed her mind her entire body tightened up under the sleeping bag, jarring her leg as she winced. Hazel had done her best to heal it but the combined work of both her and Dakota had taken too great a toll on her twin for her to do much more than allow Genevieve to stay conscious. Once they'd found a new hideout, Hazel had worked more on her leg and had eventually gotten it to the point where she could run for about five minutes before collapsing, but Hazel still insisted that Frank carry her around. The memory made Genevieve's cheeks burn as she remembered having to sit helplessly on a rock or be carried around like a newborn babe.

Deciding she needed a distraction, Genevieve slowly and carefully eased herself partially out of her sleeping bag, shivering as the cold air bit into her skin, yearning for warmth until her already numb fingers found her bag and jerked it over. Fumbling around the side pocket, she pulled out her current obsession. The remote Douglas had given her. It was suicide to even consider it, but Genevieve knew it was her best chance at stopping Pierce and the rest of his army. Maybe her _only_ chance. A twig snapped and she froze. Every muscle in her body tensed up and she momentarily forgot to breathe. Very slowly, she turned around into the direction the snap had come from and narrowed her eyes at a shadow. Scanning around, she did a quick head count and sighed as she realized who it was. Reaching into her bag, she donned the warmest jacket she could find and tugged her shoes on over the socks she slept in for warmth as she crawled out of her warm sleeping bag and into the cold, cruel, unforgiving night. Pursing her lips to keep her teeth from chattering, Genevieve stood up and turned her face upwards. Sending out her senses, she sucked out the heat of the stars, pulling them into the little cavity in her chest and cradling it there like a nice internal space heater. It had been hours since she'd pulled that trick at the bunker, but ever since she'd drawn on the heat of the sun, ever since she'd felt its overwhelming heat and beauty course through her like apple cider Genevieve had struggled to feel completely warm. Here in the night the cold was so overwhelming she expected she could literally see her fingers turn black, even though the logical part of her brain argued she was being dramatic.

Quietly and gently, she walked out past the sleeping figures of her friends, smiling when she saw Bree had thrown an arm around Frank while she slept.

"He went that way."

Whipping around, she cursed herself when she almost screamed as Hazel materialized by dropping out of a tree. She'd forgotten it was her turn to keep watch.

Nodding her head in thanks she made to head after him before her twin continued, "Are you ever going to put the poor guy out of his misery?"

Rolling her eyes, she turned around and raised her eyebrows at Hazel before melting into the comforting shadows of the forest. Ears alert, she followed the sound of footsteps until they stopped, at which point she simply kept walking, trusting her feet to know where to go. A few moments later, she reached her destination. A smile graced her lips to see him staring out at the river, probably calculating the speed by the number of rocks on the bottom to estimate the danger of the rapids or something like that. She watched him for a few moments, knowing when he'd run a hand through his hair and mutter to himself the way he did when his train of thought was particularly intense.

Biting her lip, she decided to initiate the conversation she'd been avoiding for days now. Making sure she didn't step on any twigs, Genevieve waited until she was right behind him before teasing, "You know most people get up for a midnight snack, not a midnight stroll in the woods," she said conversationally. His head whipped around and his feet slipped out from under him, sending him tumbling into the shallow stream. Laughter danced from her lips, the sensation warm and sweet and unfamiliar. He popped up, choking and sputtering and glaring at her but she was too busy laughing to care. The laughter changed into a shriek as an invisible hand grabbed her and his molecular kinesis yanked her into the water alongside him. The cold bit into her and she gasped, bubbles flooding the air around her and then Genevieve popped up, still laughing and pulled her hands back to splash him in revenge. He dove into the wave and came up, tackling her backwards and she rolled off, and the next few minutes consisted of them pelting each other with water, each trying to gain the upper hand. Genevieve used wide strokes that created bigger, powerful waves but Chase pushed both hands against the water, generating smaller albeit more focused splashes. Eventually when the cold had seemed to soak into her very teeth, she 'gave up' and used her molecular kinesis coupled with her gravity effect to create a ten-foot tall wave that hammered him from all sides. Panting and gasping and chuckling, she stroked over to the bank, plunking herself up on the dirt and grinning at his stunned expression before he swam over to join her.

"I have half a mind to shove you in," he confided.

"Don't you dare," she warned, but it was hard be threatening while you were soaking wet and grinning like a loon. Tucking her knees up to her chest, she called down more star heat as she rested her head on his chest. Her breath hitched as his hand stroked her soaking hair, gently mopping it away from her forehead but she quickly chalked it up to cold. Eventually they started talking, not really about anything important, just letting words flow from her lips as easily as the river flowed over the rocks at the bottom.

"I still remember the look on her face when she realized there were two of us," Genevieve laughed, recalling when she and Hazel had fooled Perry into thinking she was losing it.

"Yeah," he agreed sleepily, rubbing the space in between her shoulder blades over her now almost-dry hair.

"But you had my back even then," she reminded him, thinking about how they'd all gone to detention but she'd used her warp speed to clean the school in no time.

"I miss that you know," he whispered, sounding nervous.

"Miss what?" she murmured.

"You and me. Us. Being with you." Ice flooded into her veins as they approached 'IT' and she nervously licked her lips, not sure if she wanted him to continue or not. "We should give it another go," Chase suggested.

There it was. He'd said it. Somewhere deep inside she'd known that this conversation would come up and she suspected that it was part of the reason she'd followed him out here in the first place, but now that it was out there in black and white she began to panic. She was going to die and he'd be heartbroken again. But she lo – cared about him. No way. Nuh-uh. She was _not_ going down that train of thought.

"No," she whispered.

"Why not?" he demanded. His arm dropped from her shoulders and she immediately felt colder without him as he moved away, demanding answers. Genevieve shook her head, trying to find words to convince him it couldn't happen. "You can't do this to me," she whispered.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in exasperation.

"You can't ask me to, to kiss you and tell you how much I care about you and set you up to get heartbroken again when I'm going to go and die on everyone in thirteen days. You can't ask me to do that to you," she tried to explain as she stood so that she was more or less looking him in the eye. However in the six months she'd been gone he'd had a rather impressive growth spurt and she only reached his shoulders. How had she never noticed that before? But the answer was simple. She hadn't been that close to him before, except for their chance encounter in the woods last week. She'd kept him at a distance to avoid him. To avoid _this_.

"I'd rather be heartbroken from having you for as long as I could than have my heart break every day until that happens from not being able to be near you," he insisted and Genevieve wanted to cry. She did not deserve this. "I know you feel it too," he continued. "You wouldn't have followed me out here if you didn't. You can't keep denying that this means something for forever."

"I don't _have_ to keep denying that I love you for forever, just thirteen more days," she retorted before realizing what she'd just admitted to. Genevieve could see in his face that he had heard it too and triumph flashed briefly across his features.

"I knew it," he whispered. "You _do_ still love me." She shook her head mutely, wishing she could suck the words back into her mouth but it was too late, the damage was already done. "Genevieve why can't you see that both of us are hurting from this?" he asked, stepping right up close to her and brushing a stray piece of hair off her face. She wanted to say something, to somehow get them out of the danger zone but her powers of speech seemed to have temporarily abandoned her. "Please say something," he begged.

"I can't do this right now," she choked out. "You're right, I do still love you. I love you and I need you like I need to breathe but I just can't do this right now. Maybe if by some miracle I make it through this mess alive we can give it another go but I can't be with you when the chances of me still being alive in two weeks are less than zero."

"Don't talk like that. I'm not about to just sit by and let you die," he said, stubborn to a fault.

"You can't save me from this Chase," she said gently, trying to avoid getting her hopes up. "This timer has been ticking away at my life since the day I was grown."

"Fine then. Say I can't save you – but I will. If you might not have much time left why can't we at least enjoy the time we have for sure?"

Genevieve shakily opened her mouth and then closed it, knowing there was an answer, there had to be an answer, but whatever that answer was flew out of her brain along with all other thoughts as his hands found her shoulders and his lips claimed hers.

It wasn't like when Pierce had kissed her. That was forceful, and painful and torturous, but this was sweet, and warm and oh-so-wonderful. Her arms lifted up and wound their way around his neck as she pulled him closer, never wanting to let him go again. A soft moan escaped his lips and he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer until realization of what they were doing flashed through her. The warmth flew out of her body and she jerked away, fingers going to her lips.

He instinctively stepped back, watching her closely but she seemed to have turned into a statue. "Fine," he said, looking defeated. "If that's your choice, then just forget I said anything. I'm sorry I kept pressuring you." He turned around and walked began the walk back to the camp as she stayed there frozen, her thoughts alternatively freezing to a standstill and buzzing around like a hornet's nest. Memories flashed through her mind, the time he said he loved her, when she first began to care about him, a thousand kisses that left her lips searing and her heart racing, his embraces that warmed her in a way even the sun couldn't.

Snapping out of the trance that had held her, she bounded soundlessly into the trees, racing after him like a very determined shadow. She was on him in seconds and grabbed his wrist. Turning him around, she saw the defeat in his eyes and that killed her more than her expiration date ever could and ignoring the panic, ignoring her instincts screaming at her that this would end in flames, ignoring all of her reasons for keeping him at a distance that had been piling up for months she shut all of that out, placed her hands on the back of his neck and kissed him. He jerked back, looking her in the eye, searching for some sign that this was pity, or a trick and finding nothing. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making a new choice," she answered before kissing him again. His lips didn't respond at first and for a second she was terrified, wondering if he was regretting his decision now that she'd finally come clean but then he responded with such enthusiasm that he literally lifted her off her feet, spinning her around in a circle as his lips reacted to hers. Disconnecting from the kiss she held him more firmly, head pressed against his chest, determined to not let him go until absolutely necessary, knowing there was a major chance she would regret this in the morning but unable to bring herself to care. Unable to bring herself to care about anything because he loved her. Chase was right here and he loved her, he loved her, he loved –

"I'm sorry, maybe if you're busy I should come back later." Spinning on her heels, her feet nearly slid out from under her but just like always, Chase was there to make sure she kept her balance. His hands were on her elbows, keeping her upright as she faced someone who should've been dead.

"Pierce," she growled, ignoring the terror that was shooting through her veins, making her nerves buzz. This would not be like the last time. No one would get kidnapped, no one would get killed. Sucking in a quiet breath for focus, she sent out the link, fighting down fear until it clicked into its counterpart, and Hazel's concern filled her mind. Genevieve transmitted images of Pierce and panic momentarily flooded across the link, making her dizzy before grim determination and confusion replaced it, followed by an image of his hideout on fire along with the explosion Genevieve had created when Pierce had been right in front of her. She linked back her own confusion and Hazel responded with patience, and Genevieve knew her twin was telling her to wait. She sent over an emotion of acceptance and then she turned her attention back to the man in front of her and her eyes widened in surprise. He was not the calm, put together man she remembered. A gun was in both hands, and who knew what other weapons were hidden in the folds of his outfit, not to mention he had more bionics than any nervous system that wasn't hers or Hazel's should be capable of handling, and that was only because they were grown for it. As she took him in, Genevieve noted with extreme satisfaction that thick, twisted, ropy red scars covered his body, the skin puckered where she'd burned him, and unless he had the feet of a gorilla it looked like she'd managed to char every hair from his body.

"You have two options," Pierce began. "Option one: G, you come with me peacefully and we finish what we started. Option two –"

But exactly what option two was Genevieve would apparently never find out due to the fact that before Pierce could finish his sentence, an energy ball blasted him into a tree. Genevieve started as she saw who had fired it, looking at Chase to confirm that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. His expression told her she wasn't.

Trying to control her breathing she turned back to the gunman and exhaled briefly as she took in the face of the man who had been her worst enemy for years. The man who had actually prepared her in the best way possible for everything that she would one day go through, helping her in so many indescribable ways.

"You kids are a real piece of work to track down, you know that right?" Douglas Davenport demanded.

**AN: Yay! Genevieve and Chase got back together! And Douglas showed up? Hmm… now **_**what**_** could I **_**possibly**_** be planning I wonder? Wait and see! Ha ha ha! I'll update as soon as possible, just like always. I hope you've enjoyed so far. Just a little update: Out of Sight is about halfway done. *sob. I know I know, I'll miss it too. Anyway, the new story I'll be working on is going up on my profile later today. Not the Touch of Magic book, the other one for the other TV show I watch that I'm not mentioning because I want you to go look at it and read the description for yourself. Why? Because I'm a cruel and irrational human being that's why. Don't like it? Live with it. Love you! Also, I'm exactly not sure what time the description goes up, just that it will be some time today. Which means before midnight. I'll see you soon!**

**-soccermonkey413**


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